


The World Will Never Understand

by KaytiKazoo



Series: Half of a Shared Soul [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bigotry & Prejudice, College Student Isaac, Forced Institutionalization, Hate Speech, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mental Institutions, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Scott and Stiles are Brothers, Soldier Scott, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaytiKazoo/pseuds/KaytiKazoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac has a soul Mark that indicates there's someone in the world that is perfectly suited to him. It also means that there's a bond between him and them, and one day, Isaac begins to feel an immense pain and fear coming from his soulmate. He makes it his mission to find them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“So I love you because the whole entire universe conspired for us to be together.”_ ― Paulo Coelho “The Alchemist”

 

Soulmates were a touchy subject, Isaac had learned that easily. They had only started cropping up in the last twenty years with the new generation, nearly black Marks on skin when there had never been any Marks before. Doctors didn’t know what the Marks meant, or where they came from. Hundreds of newborns were born with Marks that couldn’t be explained as birthmarks, especially once the “registry” started up. Soulmates were touchy subjects, because not everyone in the older generations believed that the Marks signified soulmates. They believed that those claiming to be Marked were liars or crazy, even if it was something that they were born with.

The point is that Isaac couldn’t _talk_ about his Mark or his soulmate bond with anyone, even though he wanted to so badly, even when things started to go terribly, terribly wrong.

* * *

 

“Isaac,” his boss, and the owner of Mama’s Pizzeria, Ash called. “Order.”

Isaac swung into the kitchen, taking a long drink from his water bottle, and found his order on the counter. He tucked the pizza boxes into his carry bag and checked for his keys.

“Hurry back, Lahey,” Ash said from the oven where she was checking on a pizza. “I’m almost done with a party order.”

“Will do,” Isaac replied. He grabbed the receipt and his cash bag, heading to his car parked out back by the Dumpsters. “This have any specific instructions?”

“Marked them on the slip,” Ash answered.

He continued with his usual routine of getting ready to deliver the order by fastening the Velcro on the bag, setting his GPS on his phone, and getting into his car. He followed the directions and was several minutes away from his destination when the spike of fear thrilled through Isaac.

“Stop,” Isaac groaned, pressing his shaking hand into the Mark on his collarbone. “Now is not the time. I know you don’t care and you can’t hear me but this is not a good time. I need you to stop.”

The hairs on the back of his neck and along his arms stood up on end as the fear continued to course through the bond and flow through his body endlessly. Whatever his soulmate was getting into, it wasn’t going to stop.

 Isaac pulled over to the side of the road by a school and unclipped his seatbelt so he could rest his head against the seatbelt. His hands shook and his joints felt like rubber and he curled himself forward towards the dashboard.

He tried to send calming vibes through the bond but he was never sure if that worked and he always felt a bit silly after projecting things through this intangible connection with a complete stranger. He wasn’t even sure if his soulmate could feel the bond the same amount, if his reactions were as strong to them as theirs were to him.

He spent some of his nights that he wasn’t swamped with homework researching the soulmate phenomena, but there wasn’t a lot of concrete data yet. Not many people born with the Mark had found their other half, even with the registry. The registry had only served to muddle everything up, because you could search through the database and then people would get tattoos of Marks if they found someone they wanted to get to know. There were a few celebrities whose Marks had been of hot debate recently, whether or not they could trust anyone who claimed to have their Mark, especially after the Jennifer Blake and Derek Hale fiasco.

Isaac hoped his soulmate wasn’t one of the celebrities.

He didn’t think he could handle that kind of commitment. He wanted any relationship he might have with them to be private, so that if the Mark meant nothing as nearly everyone he had met so far insisted it was, they could fail without having to deal with public fallout.

He couldn’t imagine, though, that someone famous would ever feel terrified to the point that it was flooding through the bond and taking over all of Isaac’s senses.

Maybe his soulmate had been kidnapped or was a hostage.

Maybe their job was just inherently dangerous.

He’d felt spikes of fear before, starting a few years before so it made sense to Isaac, but they passed easily, quickly, and didn’t leave Isaac unable to function.

The choking feeling of terror subsided enough that Isaac could put the car in drive and follow the GPS direction to the delivery address without crashing. His limbs felt weak, like Jello without a mold, but he managed to find his way around to the back of the house and up the stairs to the door per the instructions Ash had noted. He knocked and the door whipped open.

“Finally! I’m starved!” the boy no older than Isaac said. Isaac noticed that he was wearing only a pair of boxers and there were bruises littered down his neck, across his chest that disappeared into the boxers.

“Your total tonight is,” Isaac paused for a second while a jolt of pain came through the bond and went streaking through him. He let out a slow breath. The boy gave no indication that he noticed Isaac in pain, but Isaac still mumbled out, “sorry. Total is 15 dollars, 30 cents.”

The boy handed over a twenty, swiped the box that Isaac was balancing on top of his delivery bag, and stated gruffly “keep the change,” before shutting the door in Isaac’s face.

People were unbelievably rude sometimes, but Isaac had just made almost five dollars, which was about a thirty percent tip, so he couldn’t complain.

Besides that, he had an expanding list of stories of odd people he had delivered to that he could go on forever about. His poor friends often received random shouting text messages about these weird experiences.

In fact, earlier that night, Erica and Boyd had both received a text message, in all caps, about one of his customers.

**HUGE MILITARY MAN FILLED OUT HIS ENTIRE RECEIPT WITH NO TIP AND PROCEEDED TO WRITE ME A CHECK FOR 78 CENTS AND THE FOR SECTION WAS FILLED OUT WITH “PIZZA TIP” WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE**

Erica had replied with a series of question marks, and then a series of increasingly unrelated and unhelpful emojis while Boyd had replied with an unsympathetic “your job sucks.” Sometimes, Isaac wondered what his brother, Camden’s replies would have been. Would he have laughed or would he give Isaac the “he deserved better than a delivery job” speech, even if he was only available nights and weekends?

Camden was the only person, Isaac had found, in their town that was okay with Isaac’s Mark.

Erica and Boyd didn’t know about it, as he always kept his shirt on so his collarbone would be covered. He wasn’t eager to tell them, just in case they weren’t all that okay with that discovery. They’d never brought up the subject, and Isaac made sure that any conversation they had steered around it, because he couldn’t bear the thought that his best friends, his _only_ friends would tell him he was crazy.

He already fielded that, and other painful arguments, from his father. He didn’t need it from his friends, too.

* * *

 

When he returned to his apartment after his shift, carrying a bag of breadsticks and a pizza that a prank order had left with him, he flopped onto his bed with a grateful sigh. He got out his laptop, ancient and clunky and loud, and ate his dinner while he checked his school email for a reply from his advisor. He found only a reminder that his library books were due soon, and a daily notification from the school’s online course website that informed him of his graded assignments.

But the base level of dread that had started through the bond hadn’t stopped, and he didn’t have much of an appetite or an attention span.

He switched tabs to Google and hovered his fingers over the keyboard uncertainly.

He finally typed out **soulmate bond** and watched as it auto-filled possible searches, the top being **soulmate bond broken** and the last being **soulmate bond annoying**. Isaac typed in the rest of his inquiry and then edited it to **pain through soulmate bond**.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, honestly. There were plenty of results but none that were relevant, mostly just a bunch of housewives who didn’t even _have_ Marks claiming almost joyously that they could sometimes feel their significant others’ pain and emotions.

If they could, Isaac thought, they wouldn’t be so happy about it.

He rubbed the Mark through his shirt and hoped, because he did feel an attachment to his soulmate, that whoever was on the other end would be okay.

* * *

 

He was woken out of a dead sleep later that night by a stabbing pain in his side, a loud shout bursting past his lips before he could stop it. He curled into a ball on his uninjured side and flinched as the door to his room flew open, and his roommate was haloed in the doorway.

“What is it? Are you okay?” Matt demanded, flipping on the light and nearly blinding Isaac.

“I don’t,” Isaac stopped. He pulled up the shirt he wore to bed on one side and found nothing, no malady, no source, and no cause of this pain. It wasn’t his appendix because he’d had that out before his mom had died. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No. It was, it was just a nightmare.”

“I know what your nightmares sound like at this point, Isaac,” Matt reminded him. They’d been rooming together at school since freshman year, and Matt had endured his nightmares and claustrophobia extremely graciously. “And this wasn’t just a nightmare.”

Isaac had been very careful not to face Matt when he changed, and to only wear t-shirts that covered his Mark. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Matt to know, if Matt would be okay with it. It wasn’t that Isaac thought Matt was someone who would toss him out for being Marked, but it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. They got along, and had similar schedules, and Matt complimented Isaac’s homemaking skills pretty well. Isaac didn’t want to lose that, especially because that would land him rooming in Erica and Boyd’s spare room, and he liked them too much to live with them. He wasn’t sure their friendship could survive Isaac having to witness their PDA 24/7.

The way Matt was looking at him now, however, suggested that Matt wasn’t going to just take Isaac’s usual bullshit for an answer.

“I have a soul Mark,” Isaac said, pushing himself up onto an elbow and carefully tugging the collar of his shirt over. Matt’s eyebrows rose. “I haven’t told anyone since I came to school.”

“So, what’s that got to do with,” he asked and finished with a vague hand motion that Isaac interrupted to mean “with all of this bullshit.”

“My soulmate’s been in trouble for the past couple of hours, since about 8 o’clock, and now they’re in pain, and I can feel it. All of it.”

“Wow,” Matt said. “That’s intense, bro.”

“Yeah,” Isaac agreed. “Is that okay?”

“What? You having a Mark?”

Isaac nodded shyly.

“Of course, dude. I’m an asshole, but I’m not that much of an asshole. What do I care if you have some weird splotch that makes you tied to someone? You do you, bro.”

Isaac laughed and said, “They’re not splotches. Mine’s a bird.”

“That’s cool. Can I ask, though?”

“Ask away.”

“What can you do about the pain?”

“Nothing. There’s no pain killer for soulmate pain,” Isaac replied. “It’s already starting to fade. Thanks for, you know, being okay with all this.”

“No problem. I’m gonna go back to bed. Let me know if there’s anything we can do, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, Matt.”

* * *

 

“You okay, Lahey?” one of his professors, a long-winded, profane man who insisted they referred to him solely by his last name, asked the following Monday. Isaac was pale from lack of sleeping, and shaky from so much adrenaline, and he ached everywhere. He couldn’t even keep his head up. His soulmate was suffering, and there was nothing Isaac could do about it.

“I’m fine, just a little under the weather.”

“Well, if you’re feeling contagious, I beg you to go rest somewhere that isn’t going to get me sick,” Avery stated.

“I’m not contagious,” Isaac replied.

“You had better not be,” he warned before returning to his lecture, which Isaac hated anyway. He was not interested in any part of his major, therefore he was not interested in any of Avery’s lectures. He dazed off more often than not in his classes, doodling his awful drawings in the corners of his notebook paper. He had a great GPA, 3.812, and he was well-liked by most of his professors, except for Professor Haynes, but his heart wasn’t in this. It never had been, and it never would be. He just didn’t _care_ about business and accounting, but this, stereotypically, was his father’s idea.

“Lahey,” Avery called after he let the class go for the day. Isaac gathered his stuff and rounded the lecture hall to the front. “You should go to the Health Center. You look like death.”

“I feel like death, but it’s not something the Health Center can just prescribe antibiotics for,” Isaac answered. His soulmate must be sleeping or whoever is hurting them must be letting them be, since there was no new pain, just what was lingering.

“What do you mean?”

Isaac shrugged. “Thank you for your concern, Avery. I’ll see you in class on Wednesday.”

* * *

 

“Please, be okay,” Isaac whispered when he sat in his car outside of work Friday afternoon. It hadn’t stopped. The pain, the fear, the waking up in the middle of the night screaming from invisible wounds hadn’t subsided. His soulmate was in agony, and Isaac was there with them. He had to help them, somehow.

He had to help his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ideas! Stories! Good things!  
> Let me know that you like it, if you like it, and if I should continue it*
> 
> *I'm going to continue it whether you want me to or not. :)


	2. Chapter 2

“ _And you left your mark on me…_ ” ― Nadège Richards, “5 Miles”

 

The pain hadn’t relented. Isaac awoke every night, normally just after he fell asleep, in agony. He curled himself into a tight ball and sobbed quietly because he could feel his soulmate wanting to just give up. He wanted to give up to. He had a hard time sleeping, and he had an even worse time focusing during class. He could barely eat anymore, the thought of food when he ached everywhere so unappealing. He hadn’t signed up for this, hadn’t signed up for any of this. He hadn’t wanted a soulmate, but he had gotten one. Now, his soulmate needed him.

He had decided he needed help, and it took him almost a literal forever to work up the courage to ask for it. He figured the best way to go about this was just to rip off the Band-Aid, figuratively.

“I have a soul Mark,” Isaac announced while in Erica and Boyd’s kitchen, watching the pair cook dinner with apathy. They turned in unison to face him.

“Did you grow this mark overnight?” Erica asked.

“No. I was born with it.”

 They gave him twin looks of disapproval in reply.

“We have been friends for three years, Isaac Jonathan,” Erica reprimanded, rounding the table to punch him in the arm. It added insult to his phantom injury. “You have had three years to tell me, to tell _us_ this and you’re choosing to tell us now instead of telling us when you met us! What is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry. I was scared. Not everyone responds well to the knowledge that I’m Marked.”

“You thought we wouldn’t want to be friends with you because of that?” Erica asked, her face softening and hardening simultaneously. He’d seen it do that very few times, mostly when Erica was pissed and felt sorry for someone at the same time.

“Why now?” Boyd asked before his girlfriend and Isaac could get into a fight, like usual. Boyd balanced Isaac and Erica’s mean streaks, standing between them in order to assuage any disagreements they might have, and they have them nearly weekly.

Isaac steeled himself and replied, “My soulmate’s in pain. They’re in constant, agonizing pain, and I need your help because when they’re in pain, so am I and I can’t keep going on like this. It’s been almost three weeks. I can’t keep going. They can’t keep going. I need them to be okay, and I need your help to rescue them or save them or just _find_ them.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Erica asked.

Isaac sank into a seat at the kitchen table.

“I have no idea.”

“We could try the Registry,” Boyd offered.

Isaac shook his head.

“I’ve looked through the Registry before. It’s a lot like looking for your soulmate on ChatRoulette.”

Erica snickered and added, “That’s a dated reference if I’ve ever heard one.”

Isaac decided to plow on as if she hadn’t said anything.

“Besides that, there’s no guarantee that my soulmate ever put his Mark on the Registry. I need a more effective way of getting my Mark out there, so it’ll reach not just my soulmate but people that might know them, and people that might know people that know them.”

“Facebook,” Erica chimed in. “You see those posts going around all the time, the ones of adopted kids all grown up and looking for birth parents. It could work for soulmates, I think.”

Isaac nodded.

“I don’t need it getting out that I’m Marked, though,” he said. “I’ve seen how people react to the Marked, Erica. It’s not pleasant most of the time. You’re the exception.”

“That’s really shitty. I don’t get what’s such a big deal. So you’re tied to someone else, whoopee. It’s a supernatural marital arrangement, and it’s absolutely none of my business.”

Isaac let out a slow breath.

“Okay, we have to start thinking of ways, besides social media, to get the message out, because people _will_ treat me differently if they know I’m Marked.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Boyd assured him. “That’s what we’re here for.” 

* * *

 

It happened in the middle of the day. He was walking from his Personal Investing class to the quad where he would meet up with Erica for lunch. There was an underground passage that cut from one building to another. It was a beautiful day outside so it was thankfully vacant when it happened. The day had been quiet, on the Soulmate front at least. He ached, but having gone through 17 days’ worth of torture would do that. There was no new pain, no new invisible wounds, nothing but the two weeks that hadn’t yet healed.

He was halfway through the tunnel, in the middle of his text to reassure Erica that yes, he was coming and he would be there in a few minutes if she could just hold her horses. The skin along his collarbone, the skin of his Mark began to burn, like someone was setting him on fire.

He let out a scream that echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the cold stone walls, and dropped to the ground. He pressed a hand to the Mark to try and make it stop.

It didn’t. He pressed his forehead against the dirty floor and sobbed, rocking back and forth.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, if it were seconds or hours. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus, couldn’t do anything. He just wept into the ground, pleading.

_Make it stop._

_Please_. 

* * *

 

He woke up slowly, bright white lights bearing down on him harshly. He groaned and tried to raise a hand to cover his eyes, but found it hooked to an IV.

“Hello!” a bubbly, too bright voice chirped. Her face popped into view a second later. “How are you feeling, Isaac?”

“Shitty. Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital. You passed out at school.”

“I did?”

He frowned and moved. The movement hurt, drawing a hiss from him. His hand went to his collarbone and gingerly tugged the hospital gown to the side. The Mark was unharmed, unblemished. It was intact when it shouldn’t have been. It had been burned off; he had _felt_ the hot metal searing against his skin right where-

“Is that a-” the nurse started to ask but Isaac cut her off.

“Yeah, a soul Mark.”

The nurse reached out cautiously, stopping for consent, before she touched the skin around the Mark. Isaac winced.

“Does it hurt?”

“The other half of this Mark,” Isaac started and stopped, pausing to gather his courage, “whatever happened to them, I can feel it. Every bit of pain inflicted on him, I can feel.”                   

The nurse nodded solemnly. She was pretty, her hair blonde with soft pink highlights pulled back away from her face, her scrubs a gentle blue. She was the kind of girl that Isaac would’ve flirted with and tried to get her number, if he wasn’t already bound to someone. Even if they could work out, this Mark would hang over them forever, and he would not do that to someone he loved. He would not commit to someone and have them commit to him when there was always this possibility that he would leave for his soulmate.

She pulled herself up onto the bed beside his feet like they were old friends.

“Can I ask you about that?”

“About soulmates or the-”

“Yeah, soulmates. There’s not a lot of literature about them, and as a nurse, I would like to know how to treat them when they come in, since people like you are showing up more and more.”

Isaac shrugged.

“We’re normal people, but with an open phone call to our other halves.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant, actually. So, they’re in your head? They can hear your thoughts? That seems like an invasion of privacy, even for someone perfectly designed for you.”

“They’re not in our heads. It’s more like this feeling, that you’re part of something bigger almost. You get this splotch on your skin when you’re born, too dark to be a birthmark and it never fades like a tattoo would. You have this connection to someone a town away, on the other side of the country, on the other side of the world, and you can sense them, even when you don’t want to, even when you’re not trying. I can feel their emotions when they’re strong enough, and obviously their pain. They’re always there, giving off some kind of aura. My soulmate is a happy person, the link always bursting with joy and excitement.”

She nodded and chewed on her lip.

“Do you know anything about them? Like, name, gender, location?”

“No. You have to just live your life and hope that you come across them.”

“Isn’t there some sort of way to look them up?”

“The Registry is one way, I guess. I’ve went looking, but it’s a big waste of time mostly. People lie, and use tattoos if they want to get into someone’s pants.”

 The nurse looked like she was about to say something, ask another question, but the door opened and Erica burst in.

“Is he awake? Isaac Lahey, how dare you!”

The nurse smiled, stood, and excused herself from the room, leaving him with an angry, worried Erica Reyes.

“Hey.”

She marched towards him and punched him hard in the arm.

“Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Worry me!”

“I didn’t mean to, you know. It’s not like I went into the day with this idea that I would pass out in a tunnel where no one would find me.”

“For an hour!”

“What?”

“You were in that tunnel for an hour before I went to find you, and you were barely conscious. You were moaning and whimpering, and I was _scared_.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, moving over and patting the bed for Erica. She pulled herself up and rested her head on his good shoulder. “They burned on my soulmate’s Mark.”

“Oh my god.”

“Whoever is hurting him, they’re not okay with soul Marks, and I’m scared for them.”

“We’ll find them, Isaac. We’ll get your soulmate out of that situation.”

“I wonder if this is how they felt, you know, with me and my dad.”

Erica curled herself into him.

“We’ll save them, just like I did for you.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed her temple and touched his Mark, hoping and praying that his soulmate would survive until they could get them out of whatever hell they were living through.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _A bond between souls is ancient – older than the planet._ ” – Dianna Hardy

Isaac was released from the hospital later that same day, after the doctor had decided that there was nothing technically wrong with Isaac. He hadn't told anyone else, except the nurse, about his soulmate or the bond to them. Erica picked him up in his car and drove him home to his apartment with Matt. She made sure he got into the apartment and called him out of work with a clear, definitive voice that not even his toughest manager dared turn her down.

That's why he loved Erica, to be honest. She didn't back down when she cared about something. She was the reason that he was here today, that he was even at college and not cowering in his basement somewhere and digging graves with his father. They had met at a college tour, and had hit it off in such a way that they had exchanged phone numbers by the end of the day.

Erica had texted him good morning and goodnight every single day, and she sent him weekly selfies so he wouldn’t forget her face.

When Erica had found out that his dad didn’t want him going to college, even though he had been accepted and his tuition was covered by his inheritance from his mother’s death, Erica had drove hours to his house in the middle of the night, and chewed his father out so thoroughly that his father had begrudgingly told him to send in his admission deposit.

“Get some sleep, Lahey. Call me in the morning,” Erica insisted, waving at Matt who was having a bowl of Ramen over the sink. She walked him into his bedroom and leaned against the doorway. “If you need me tonight, call me. I will come right over, I promise.”

“You always do, Reyes. You’re my superhero.”

“I would make a stunning Catwoman,” Erica agreed.

Erica waved as she swayed out of the apartment, calling a goodbye to Matt, and pulling the door shut with finality. Matt looked between the door and Isaac, noodles hanging from his mouth like Cthulhu. He slurped the last of them and asked, “Where have you been?”

“In the hospital,” Isaac answered. “Had some Mark trouble.”

“Is that something the hospital can fix?”

“Nope.”

“Good thing you have excellent health insurance,” Matt replied before taking his bowl to the kitchen. Isaac slipped into his room and closed the door, and plopped gratefully onto his bed.

He checked his phone, which still had Erica’s thirteen frantic voicemails and approximately thirteen _thousand_ text messages, all varying from mad to concerned to terrified. He replied to just one of the messages, saying that his favorite insult she’s ever used was cock bottle rocket and he wanted that to be his name in her phone from now on.

She replied with a slur of curse words not suitable for children.

He couldn’t muster the energy to change into any resembling pajamas, or even to tug his jeans off, but he managed to plugged his phone in, as it was probably about three minutes from death, and laid down, closing his eyes.

There are many theories about soulmates and Marks and the bonds that tie two people together. Of course there is, this world is made up of theories. Some people, they claimed to be scientists, said that the bond is one that has brought two souls together through every life those souls have lived and if you tried hard enough, you could remember past lives through the bond. Other people said it was evolution, although Isaac couldn’t really see how this is evolving in anyway.

Some Marked claimed that they had visions and dreams of their soulmate, but only through their eyes looking at the world, so it wasn’t extraordinarily helpful. There are a million Bleecker Streets in the world, even more Starbucks. You can’t track someone down based solely on a street or a coffee shop. But Isaac wished that he could see through his soulmate’s eyes and discover who was doing this to them, who was hurting them so badly that it resonated through the bond.

He wanted to read up on that, and see if there was a way to make those visions happen, but he was so tired. He had never been so tired, so bone-achingly exhausted in his life. He just wanted to sleep, to mend and heal from phantom wounds. He wondered, his eyelids too heavy to open and his fingers too stubborn to move, if this is something his soulmate was feeling, too. Was this coming from them, or from him? Maybe it was a mix of the two, his soulmate’s weariness from being tortured every day mixing with Isaac’s weariness from not being able to get a good night’s rest because of his soulmate’s torture.

He wanted to sleep but there was something nagging at him. It dug underneath his ribs and nestled itself there, spreading out like a cancerous growth, leeching the life and energy from him bit by bit.

He groaned and rolled onto his side to grab his phone. He messaged Erica.

**I need to find them.**

It’s several long excruciating minutes before his phone bloops with her reply.

**Good Boyd thinks he’s found a way to do it**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a logical, actual reason for this being 1) two months late and 2) 800 words.  
> I got this wonderful laptop for Christmas, and I've been using it because it's my baby, but my baby decided to kill it's motherboard, which meant none of my files were salvageable, which meant that this story's third chapter and all of the notes I had for the story as a whole are gone, so I'm now writing without a plan.   
> Don't hate me, guys!   
> Also, this chapter was just an aggressive Erica/Isaac brotp homage, lez-be honest. :)


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place_.” — Robert Brault

Erica came to pick Isaac up the next morning, after he had gotten sufficient enough sleep to continue functioning but not enough to feel quite like a human being again, and drove him back to her apartment where Boyd was waiting at the computer.

“Erica and I,” Boyd started.

Erica butt in, however, “it was mostly him, I just made snacks.”

“Anyway,” Boyd said with a playful roll of his eyes, “we were up most of the night looking through stories of how people found their soulmates through social media. There’s the obvious way of going through the Registry, but a lot of people claimed that it was unreliable and a lot more like Wikipedia than originally planned. Not everyone has their Marks in the same place as their soulmate so you can’t just search by body part and hope that you stumble upon it.”

Isaac nodded, since he’d known all of this.

“Now, there are some smaller websites that are trying to be a better version of the Registry, and there’s even some dating sites that are exclusively for the Marked,” Boyd continued. “A lot of people did what adopted kids do, use Facebook and Twitter and whatever else to get their picture and their information out, but I know you don’t want that to get around so we figured we’d stick to the Marked-only websites that will allow you anonymity and safety in trying to find them.”

Isaac nodded again.

“So we went on some of the sites and did some research and we found two or three that could be the most helpful. Unfortunately, all of this really depends on whether or not someone is looking for your soulmate and wants to try to find them by finding you.”

“If it were you that were missing,” Erica provided, “I would do anything to get you back, so that’s what we’re hoping for.”

“What we’re going to do today is get you a profile on a couple of these websites, put out some hooks, and see what bites.”

“Was that a fishing metaphor?” Isaac asked.

Boyd gave him a look of annoyance but didn’t respond.

“If you want to get something to eat before we start,” Boyd offered, “we have-”

“No, it’s fine. I just want to get this started. I need to find them, more than I need to eat.”

Boyd nodded, and shoved over for Isaac to have a seat in front of the keyboard.

“We’ll start with one of the dating sites. It’s the most highly rated, the most reputable, and it’s also the one with the most anonymity.”

He typed the URL into the address bar and passed the computer over to Isaac. The site was light blue trimmed, with an awful name like Mark Match, and Isaac hovered his mouse over the Register link. He took a deep breath, and clicked it. It was anticlimactic, at best. The page loaded the registration screen, and he was just looking at a regular registration page. He let out the breath and started typing.

Once he finished entering all of his information, he clicked on submit.

“Are you ready for this?” Erica asked, pressing her hands into his shoulders and shaking him.

“No. Not remotely.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“You can do it, babe. It’s just like making a Facebook account.”

“No, it’s not. This is so much more important, and dangerous. If anyone from my hometown finds this, I am so dead.”

“Why would they go on this site? I thought there weren’t a lot of Marked where you’re from,” Boyd asked.

Isaac’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“There aren’t but how did you know?” Isaac asked.

“There’s a map showing where the most amount of Marked are born, and there’s less than ten people in your county that are Marked,” Boyd answered.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that people who aren’t Marked wouldn’t get on here to use that information against people.”

“That’s fucked up,” Erica said, an angry look on her face. Isaac reached over to her and covered her hand.

“It’s okay. People won’t find out until I’m certain I’ll never have to go back there.”

Erica nodded.

“You’re welcome here, even if they find out,” she assured him. “Our door is always open to you.”

He smiled at her, and she grinned back at him.

“Okay, we need to upload a picture of my Mark,” Isaac said, turning back to the profile. “And then we’ll set up the rest of the sites you have in mind. Then, I want something to eat.”

“Eat, I’ll grab my camera,” Erica said before ducking out of the kitchen. Isaac leaned around the computer and grabbed one of the sandwiches that Erica had put together.

“She’s right,” Boyd said, grabbing one for himself.

“About?”

“If you ever need to get out of there, we will always have the door open and the couch waiting for you. We’ll even move into a new apartment so you can have a bedroom. We don’t have a lot of friends, but we have you, which is good enough for me. I would rather have one quality friend than a large quantity of lackluster friends.”

Isaac nodded, and said quietly, “thank you. It’s nice to know I have a place to go, should shit turn south.”

“Always, man.”

They ate their sandwiches side by side in silence while Isaac examined the dating site’s design, filling in whatever he hadn’t before. Erica came out from the bedroom as they finished their sandwiches, camera in hand.

“Okay, Lahey, strip.”                                     

“Alright, but don’t tell your boyfriend,” Isaac said conspiratorially.

“I won’t, as long as you don’t tell your soulmate.”

“Oh, I’ll try not to.”

He tugged his t-shirt up and over his head, and laid it on the counter, then turned to face Erica. She raised the camera up so she could look at the screen, and frowned.

“Lighting in here sucks.”

She grabbed Isaac’s arm and took him into the living room. She stood him in the middle of the room, and turned on the overhead light. She stood up on the coffee table, as without her heels she was barely as tall as his shoulder, and grinned as she examined the image through the view finder again.

“Perfect. Don’t move.”

She had been taking photographs for years since she was a kid, and although she wasn’t majoring in anything close to photography, she would continue to use that photography in whatever she did. She was an integrative neuroscience major, citing her own epilepsy as a drive.

“I said, don’t move,” she instructed after Isaac had shifted to brush his hair out of his face.

“Will you just take the picture already?”

“I’m trying to get a good angle so you can tell what it is! It’s in a weird spot, the details are on different angles.”

She adjusted herself again and took a picture, then looked at it. She looked between her photo and the bird on Isaac’s collarbone. She nodded.

“That is as good as it’s gonna get, I suppose.”

It happened fast, Erica dragging him into the kitchen and uploading the picture to the dating site, and before Isaac knew it, his profile was complete. Boyd showed him the other two websites, and he decided to create a profile on a message board website much like Reddit but designed for soulmates to find each other and discuss bond concerns.

“This is a very small site,” Isaac commented as he was scrolling through some of the forums. “How can we hope to find my soulmate or someone who knows my soulmate _here_ of all places?”

“It’s actually the most reputable site we found,” Erica answered. “Do you want Chinese or Thai tonight?”

“I want Mexican,” Isaac replied.

“There’s no Mexican delivery, Isaac.”

“Well, that’s dumb.”

“So, Chinese or Thai?” Erica asked Boyd instead. Isaac stuck his tongue out at her and started his registration for the forum. He kept his username tame, since Erica always made Isaac used isaaclayme, deciding on ILahey14 just in case he did find his soulmate’s friends or family. He didn’t need that grade school joke being their first impression of him. If this were Twitter or Instagram, whatever, he didn’t care. The only people he interacted with on social media sites were Boyd, Erica, and Matt, and sometimes Cora depending on the day. Hell, the only reason he had an account on those sites was because Erica insisted that he get them so she could tag him in things.

At the end of the day, after they’d eaten their fill of Thai food and watched all the American Ninja Warrior they could handle, and Isaac had a profile on the strange non-dating, non-forum website.

“I need to go home and sleep,” he said, standing from the couch. “And do my homework, probably. Not that I even care about it at this point. God, I don’t even care about my major anymore. I just want to bring my soulmate back safely.”

“We will. But you need to stay focused on school, too.”         

He groaned, making a face at Erica.

“I hate my classes, and most of the people in my major, and I’m just so bad at this that I want to die every time I go to class,” Isaac said, stretching. “But, you’re right. I need to keep up my grades because if I don’t, I will piss my dad off and I can’t handle that.”

She nodded.

“Think about switching your major, if you hate it that much.”

He shook his head.

“No, I can’t. That’ll definitely piss my dad off.”

“Isaac,” Boyd said, “you’re the one who is going to have to live with your career, so don’t think about what your dad will think. Don’t think about anyone but you, and about what you want. No one gets to decide what you do with your life, not even your father.”

Isaac nodded. He was right, to an extent, but even if he could change his mind and his major, he had no idea if he could. He had wanted to be, well, it didn’t matter now. He couldn’t do it anyway, he wasn’t good enough. He could work with numbers, and be an accountant. Numbers were easy. He was good enough for numbers.

“Thanks, guys. I’ll put up a post on the forum, and let you know when, or if, someone replies.”

“Have faith, Lahey. It’ll work out,” Erica said.

“I hope you’re right, Reyes. I really do.”

* * *

 

_My name is Isaac and I’m looking for my soulmate. Our Mark is in the shape of a bird with its wings spread out, I’ll attach a picture below for further detail. Part of me is terrified to do this, but I need to find my soulmate, because I think they’re in trouble. Through the bond, I can feel their pain, and their terror, and I want to help them. I don’t know where to look or who to contact, but if anyone has any idea where to start, I would appreciate any help you can give me._

_If you need to contact me, my name is Isaac and my email is[ilahey14@gmail.com](mailto:ilahey14@gmail.com) _

_Please. I need your help._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Losing your files are rough, bro. I am sorry for waits! I have everything backed up online AND I rewrote/replanned my notes!  
> Tell me what you think, babes, and I will work on this one as fast as I can!!!
> 
> Also remember to bookmark, kudos, subscribe, share, whatever else to show me your love and support!  
> -K


	5. Chapter 5

“ _Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same_.” — Emily Bronte

“Hey Isaac,” Boyd said as Isaac slid into the booth across from him in one of the dining halls on campus. “How’s your day?”

“It definitely could be better, but you know, what do I have to complain about?” Isaac asked, opening his bag and peering inside for his homework folder.

“Plenty, actually.”

Isaac snorted.

“How about you?”

“All of my homework is done,” Boyd answered with a shrug. “But I have to find Erica a perfect birthday gift, and that’s far worse than any homework assignment.”

Isaac nodded.

“I take her out to lunch, then let her buy her own gift afterwards,” Isaac answered. “She always enjoys what I get for her.”

“She might expect something a bit more romantic from her boyfriend.”

“Well, that’s dumb.”

“If you find that soulmate of yours, you’re gonna have to dial up the romance,” Boyd told him with a small smirk.

“Yeah, _if_.”

“We’ll find them, Isaac. You’ve got me, and Hurricane Erica behind you, and you know Erica doesn’t stop until she’s satisfied.”

“That’s true.”

“Don’t worry.”

Isaac nodded and took out the worksheet for his personal accounting class. He had to find the errors in each other the examples, and god, he fucking hated it.

“Hey, do you want to help me? Because I have an idea but I need some input, and you’ve known Erica longer than I have. She tells you everything.”

“She tells you everything, too,” Isaac assured, scanning the first example, adding in his head.

“Yeah, she tells me the censored boyfriend-version of everything. You get the unabridged best friend-version of everything. It’s different.”

“I don’t get it.”

“What does Erica tell you about?”

“I dunno, work, class, the food in the dining halls, cute boys she sees,” Isaac said.

“Exactly, she edits out the cute boys when she talks to me.”

“And that’s supposed to help me pick out a gift for her?”

Boyd smiled but didn’t answer, deciding to change the subject.

“What are you working on?”

“Accounting.”

“I don’t know why I bother, you’re always working on accounting.”

“Funny thing about that is that it’s my major, so it’s a _majority_ of my work.”

Boyd rolled his eyes.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I’m hilarious.”

The dining hall steadily filled up around them as people got out of class and met up with their friends. Isaac would’ve gone home to make lunch if he weren’t quite so lazy. He had an hour between two of his classes, and he technically had time to make it from his classroom to his apartment, make food, and then run back to campus for his next class, but that took a lot of effort. He could easily just hang out with Boyd in a dining hall with food he didn’t have to make himself, and that took no effort.

Besides, this way he could sit and work for almost an hour while eating. That had to count for something.

“Do you want some fries?” Boyd asked, pushing his plate towards Isaac. “There’s no way I can finish all of this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I got way too much food.”

“That’s not like you,” Isaac said, reaching over and grabbing a fry from Boyd’s plate. “Are you stress-eating?”

“No,” Boyd said quietly. “Maybe a little bit.”

“She’ll like anything you get her, you know,” Isaac said, slowly sorting through the numbers on the small spreadsheet table on his worksheet.

“I don’t want her to just like it, though. It’s her birthday, and I’m her boyfriend. She should love the gift I get her. I should know her enough that I can get her a gift she loves.”

Isaac looked up as Boyd put a large cookie in his mouth whole.

“Boyd, you _do_ know her well enough to get her that gift. Trust me, she will love whatever you get her. And, if you can’t get her anything, surprise her with birthday sex. She loves birthday sex.”

“How do you know that?” Boyd asked around a mouthful of cookie crumbs.

“Because Erica does tell me a lot of things, half of which I have no desire to know.”

Boyd chuckled before finishing chewing his cookie crumbs.

“I’ll still go with you, though, to try and pick something out for her. But just keep in mind, birthday sex,” Isaac said. “I’m free tonight, I don’t have to work.”

“Yeah, I get out of class at 4, and Erica isn’t free until 9, so that’ll be good. You want me to meet you at your apartment?”

“I can pick you up, if you want, from class.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Boyd mocked lightly. “Are you gonna give me your class ring next? Are you going to give me your lettermen jacket?”

Isaac rolled his eyes and said, “Fine, walk to my apartment then.”

Boyd laughed.

“How’s your soulmate today, by the way?” Boyd asked quietly, dropping his voice so other students wouldn’t be able to overhear them.

“Well, nothing too terrible has happened today. They’re in pain, but not from anything fresh, it’s just residual effects, I think. They’re mostly okay, I think they’re getting a break. There hasn’t been anything since they had their Mark burned off.”

“How can you tell that it’s their Mark?”

“I can’t, but I’m assuming. The place they were burned is the exact spot where my Mark is, and it’s not common for soulmates to have Marks in the same place, but it’s not unheard of. It’s too much of a coincidence that they were burned on their collarbone when that’s exactly where my Mark is, you know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense. The only other option here really is that they know who you are and know where your Mark is, which makes no sense because they probably would’ve taken both of you, you know?” Boyd said with a shrug.

“That’s a terrifying concept, actually. But there are people in the world that hate the idea of soul bonds and Marks. Some are extremists, and you’ll see headlines of them attacking and at the very least killing Marked people whenever they see one.”

“I see why you didn’t want us to know,” Boyd said.

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you guys,” Isaac said. “Because I do trust you.”

“Then-”

“I don’t know what stopped me. I didn’t even tell Matt until all of this bullshit started,” Isaac said, gesturing to his collarbone. “I want to keep the people who know as small as possible, and if I didn’t tell anyone here, no one could spread it around that Lahey is Marked.”

“This is a big area, though. There much be plenty of people that are Marked, aren’t there?”

“Not as many as you’d think.”

“Isn’t there a group or club on campus for people like you? They could be supportive, and definitely more understanding than Erica and I could be.”

“I appreciate the thought, Boyd, but I go to QSU most weeks, that’s as out as I’d like to be,” Isaac said. He did attend most meetings for the Queer Student Union, even though he hadn’t officially come out as anything. He just knew that he wasn’t straight, and that was enough for him. Being around people who understand this lack of heterosexuality made him feel great, but it wasn’t the same thing. While heteronormativity was still heavily prevalent in society, once the soul Marks started cropping up, most bigots shifted their attention towards the Marked and away from the queer. It was more dangerous to come out as Marked these days that it was to come out as gay or transgender, not that those were without their dangers still.

Being a non-heterosexual Marked individual where he was from was like painting a giant bullseye right on your back and inviting everyone to stone you to death.

Well, they didn’t stone you, literally, but you should probably pack up your stuff and move in the middle of the night, just to be safe.

“So how’s your day, on a much happier note?” Isaac asked, shifting attention back to Boyd. He didn’t like thinking about home too much, about the horrors of his household and the terrors that lurked in the pleasant old ladies on his street. “Did anything exciting happen in your classes? You always have the best stories.”

“My professor threw up on the first row of seats,” Boyd said like it wasn’t anything exciting.

“What?” Isaac laughed.

“Yeah, he’s been kind of sick all week, but he hates cancelling class, so he just powers through, except today he couldn’t hold out anymore. So he was in the middle of telling us all about this new discovery they’d made in France or something when he just turned this awful color and before he could warn the people to move, he was vomiting on their desks, and all over their laps.”

“I sure hope he gives them an A in class.”

“The worst, or I guess that best part was that one of the girls also threw up after getting thrown up on, but she couldn’t get the desk up quick enough and ended up throwing up on the professor’s shoes.”

“Serves him right,” Isaac said. His class had sucked, because his professor had called on him when he hadn’t had his hand raised and he didn’t know the answer and the professor had just sighed and shook his head at Isaac. Hanging out with Boyd in between his classes always brightened his day.

“Oh, shit, I have to get going. My next class is on the other side of campus,” Boyd said, checking his watch. “I didn’t realize it was so late!”

“Go, dude. I’ll take care of your tray.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, absolutely. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah! See you then!”

Boyd threw his stuff into his bag and rushed off, nearly bowling over a poor nervous freshman girl whose eyes kept darting quickly around the dining hall as if trying to find the best place to sit where no one would be watching her.

Isaac went back to his worksheet, happy for the first time since he woke up that morning.

* * *

Gift shopping for Erica was a lot harder than he’d ever thought it would be. Like he’d told Boyd, whenever Isaac couldn’t figure out what the buy her, he’d just take her out to dinner and shopping, and she’d point out things she liked, and he’d check for his price range. He was guilty of doing this for Christmas, too, but she never minded.

“You’re not a bad friend, Isaac,” she had reassured him time and time again. “You make sure that you get me something I want, or something I need. Do you know what my Grandma Reyes got me for Christmas this year? A sweater.”

“Sweaters are nice,” Isaac had reasoned. She shook her head.

“It has a cat on it.”

He hissed.

“Ouch, what are you gonna do with it?”

“Nothing, it’s sitting in the back of my closet with the rest of my ugly Christmas sweater collection that I wear around holidays for my family and then never think about the rest of the year. It’s safer for my image this way.”

Sometimes, Isaac would pick up gift cards to various stores he knew that Erica adored but could never afford and would slip them into her wallet or bookbag when she wasn’t looking. He actually did the same thing with Boyd, but Boyd always gave him this look like daring him to keep doing it.

Isaac did it anyway.

He wanted to take care of the people closest to him, keep them safe and happy. He had a job that paid well considering, and the money from his mother’s will and the money from Camden’s insurance both went towards his tuition and cost of living. This meant that Isaac had some cash to spare sometimes and his friends, the only two he really had, deserved to be spoiled on those sometimes.

“Do you want me to call Erica?” Isaac asked as they visited just about every store that Erica had even so much as looked at in the mall.

“No, because she’ll know what’s up.”

“No, she won’t.”

He took out his phone and dialed Erica, knowing she’d been in a break between classes right then.

“What’s up, babe?” she answered.

“Hey, so I was thinking about your birthday lunch,” Isaac said. “Olive Garden or Red Lobster?”

“Olive Garden, duh,” she replied. “I want one of those breadstick sandwiches, goddamn it.”

“Awesome,” he said. “What was that-”

“I know what’s going on, Isaac. Point Boyd in the direction of candles, some bubble bath from Lush, you know my scents, and a box of condoms. That’s all I want this year.”

“Right,” Isaac said.

“You were very sneaky, if that’s what your ego is wounded about. I just know you, and I know Boyd. He’s been trying to wheedle present information out of me for weeks, and I figured he’d go to you eventually.”

“You’re a wonderful person, Erica, a mastermind but wonderful.”

“Yeah, I know. Bye babe.”

“Bye.”

He hung up and Boyd gave him a look of pure I told you so.

“Pamper her,” Isaac said with a shrug. “Candles, mood music, a warm bath with something from Lush, and birthday sex.”

* * *

Isaac finished his Intermediate Accounting Theory homework, which was boring and he may have nearly dozed off on his textbook. He crawled into bed, welcoming its soft, cloudlike embrace, after finally shutting his laptop off for the night. By habit, he decided to check his phone quickly before dropping off. He was just about to put it on silent just in case Erica decided to live-text whatever show she was binge-watching that night when he noticed a small icon in his notification bar for his email. No one ever emailed him except professors.

He really hoped it was a cancellation notice. Those were his favorite emails of all time.

He opened the email app and found the unread email in bold from Stiles Stilinski, the subject line reading Possible Soulmate?


	6. Chapter 6

“ _Have you ever felt really close to someone? So close that you can’t understand why you and the other person have two separate bodies, two separate skins_?” **–** Nancy Garden

Isaac stared at the email, reading and rereading the rambling bit of text Stiles Stilinski had sent him.

_Isaac,_

_My name is Stiles Stilinski. I saw your post on soulseek.com and I think I know who you’re looking for. I could be wrong, but I think I’m not. I really hope I’m not, or else I’m gonna make a fool out of myself. It’s not me, though, so don’t get your hopes up yet. I’m actually contacting you on behalf of my brother, Scott. I’ve attached a picture of his soul Mark so you can verify, but to me it looks like the same one, but you would definitely know your own Mark better than mine._

_The reason I’m contacting you instead of letting Scott do it is because my brother is missing. I’m hoping that his soulmate can help bring him home. I’m hoping that soulmate is you._

_-S. Stilinski_

* * *

_Stiles,_

_I looked at the photo you sent, and that is definitely the same Mark. Your brother is my soulmate._

_What do we do?_

_Isaac_

* * *

_Isaac,_

_This may sound dumb, and distrusting, but can you send me a picture proving that you’re you? Like, hold up three fingers or something. My dad’s a sheriff and would kill me if he thought I was contacting a random guy on the internet without proving that you’re not a serial killer or something._

_-S. Stilinski_

* * *

_Stiles,_

_I understand. My brother was the same way._

_Isaac_

* * *

_Isaac,_

_Thanks! So, I guess we need to talk about Scott now, because I read your post again. You said he’s in pain? What else do you know? Anything could help me find him._

_-S_

* * *

_Stiles,_

_I don’t really know anything that could possibly be helpful. Whatever happened to him started a few weeks ago, around dinner time here in California. It’s been a steady supply of pain and terror since. One afternoon about a week ago now, the people that have him burned off his soul Mark, but since they haven’t really done anything. He’s achy, and he’s scared, and I can feel how weak he is, but he’s still alive._

_I don’t know if you have a bond with anyone, but it’s terrifying to feel someone that’s been on the periphery of your life suddenly start to be in pain that often._

_Can you tell me anything about him?_

_Maybe if I know more about him… I don’t know what I hope to happen, but I just hope something does._

_Isaac_

* * *

_Isaac,_

_Thank you for telling me. It’s hard to hear, but I’m glad he’s still alive. We’ve all been living in this scared in between of mourning and hope, waiting for a commanding officer to come tell us he’s gone._

_Well, that’s one thing about him. Scott is in the Army, and he was on a mission when his unit was all killed. We all feared that he was dead too, but the Army hadn’t found his body so he was declared MIA and a possible POW._

_He’s not really my brother, well, he is, but he isn’t. He’s my step-brother, but we grew up together since we were toddlers so he’s my brother brother, if that makes sense. We were brothers long before our parents got married._

_His name is Scott McCall (McCall is his father’s last name, but he’s really a Stilinski, no matter what his driver’s license says). He is 21 years old, bisexual, and he lives, when he’s not in Afghanistan, in Northern California. He is fluent in Spanish, and he knows some sign language. He’s cute as hell, which I guess I’m biased on this account, but whatever. He’s in the Army because he wants to go to college to become a veterinarian but we can’t afford for two of us to go to school without some assistance. He’s also a really good soldier, so that helps._

_He likes ice cream sandwiches, and listening to blink 182 at all hours of the night. He’s absolutely shit at Call of Duty, which is ironic given his current career. He’s one of those weird people that likes candy corn and starts a stash during the Halloween season that will last all year round. He makes one mean burrito, which is not racist if he’s just really good at it._

_I can keep going, but is there anything specific you want to know?_

_-S_

* * *

_Stiles,_

_You said that he lives in northern California?_

_Isaac_

* * *

_Isaac,_

_Yeah, I did. Why?_

_-S_

* * *

_Stiles,_

_It’s just that_ I _live in northern California. Well, I’m from northern California. I go to school near San Francisco._

_Isaac_

* * *

_Isaac,_

_Seriously? All this time and Scott’s soulmate lived so close to us? We always assumed that you would live in Timbuktu or some such shit. That’s crazy!_

_-S_

* * *

_Stiles,_

_I hate to be the bearer of bad news, especially when it comes to him, but who has him hurt him really badly last night. I don’t know what’s going on, what they want him for, but whatever they did to him is bad enough that we can still feel it. I don’t have anything else for you though._

_He_ _is so scared, Stiles, and if I knew where he was or who had him, I would go into that war-zone and save his precious ass, but I don't know what to do. I'm useless, and I'm always in pain. I'm sorry I can't do more._

_Isaac_

* * *

_Isaac,_

_This may be crossing a line, but as we’re both invested in Scott coming home, I don’t see the harm. Here’s my phone number. Call me if you need to talk or whatever. I’m here for you._

_-S_

* * *

**To: Stiles**

**Hey its Isaac**

**From: Stiles**

**Heyyyyoooo! What’s sizzling?!**

**From: Stiles**

**Sorry. I don’t know what came over me**

**To: Stiles**

**Yeah that was strange**

**From: Stiles**

**I promise not to do it again**

**To: Stiles**

**Thank you**

* * *

**To: Stiles**

**Hey I’m going home for the weekend so I won’t be near my computer but if you get any info I’ll have my phone on me**

**From: Stiles**

**Sweet!**

**From: Stiles**

**Sorry**

**From: Stiles**

**I’ll go bury myself in a hole now**

**To: Stiles**

**Yeah that seems best**

* * *

Isaac packed up a bag to take back home with him for the weekend, and checked his school-issued email again just in case there was something about his classes on Monday. He wasn’t going, because he would be driving back on Monday, but he’d like to know if one of the classes he was skipping was actually cancelled. He left his laptop on his desk, along with his notebooks, textbooks, and homework. This weekend wasn’t about school work or classes. It wasn’t about accounting or finances.

This weekend was about his mother. He had a laundry list of things to do for her, and he would not be distracted by accounting or finances. He refused.

So, with his bag packed and his apartment locked up, Isaac headed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what made me want to write it like this, but it sounded cool in my head, and it got through a bunch of time quicker than having what Isaac was doing around each email and blahblah, I hoped you liked it!  
> Comment, kudos, bookmark, share, subscribe if you did!!!
> 
> -K


	7. Chapter 7

“ _Our souls already know each other, don’t they?’ he whispered. ‘It’s our bodies that are new_.” -Karen Ross

Stiles was kind of weird. By kind of, Isaac meant a lot. He had a tendency to send Isaac very strange text messages, and then a second later send an apology like he’d forgotten who he was texting in the first place.

**From: Stiles**

**BRUH THERE’S A CUTE ASS CAT IN THE QUAD AND I WANT TO BRING IT HOME WITH ME DO YOU THINK MY HOUSEMATES WILL CARE**

**From: Stiles**

**Sorry, I got too excited over that cute cat**

**From: Stiles**

**I forgot we don’t know each other that well**

**From: Stiles**

**I just feel like we’ve been friends for years, if that doesn’t put you off**

Isaac wasn’t sure what to make of him, but he was entertaining, and always got any references that he made. He also found himself sending Stiles pictures throughout his day, from the weird way someone smelled is name on his coffee (although, really, why would Isaac be spelled Izaik) to the ridiculous line of traffic coming out of San Francisco.

**From: Stiles**

**I absolutely love fucking with people at coffee shops because my name isn’t legally Stiles, it’s just a nickname I came up with to avoid my real name, so I’ll tell them my real name which is a Polish keysmash and see what they come up with**

**From: Stiles**

**No, you can’t know what it is**

**From: Stiles**

**That is between me and the future Mr. Stilinski**

Isaac drove back home with promises to Erica and Boyd to call once he got to his house and again when he was leaving on Monday so they knew he was safe and sound. He loved driving, and even though his car was pointed back to the one place he didn’t really want to go in the first place, but he’d made a promise to his mom and to Camden.

If his father wouldn’t honor them, Isaac would have to do it for himself.

Even if that meant driving back towards the freezer and the verbal abuse.

He really hated going home. As much as he didn’t enjoy his major, he did like his life at school. No one, save his friends, knew about his soul Mark, and he liked his job as demeaning it sometimes was, and he liked having a purpose and the freedom to do what he wanted. He didn’t have to think ahead to the consequences of his actions. It was really nice not having to look over his shoulder or fret over every small decision.

When he was home, he always worried that his t-shirt would slip or someone would catch him changing and then they’d _know_. People knew, of course, because it was recorded at birth and then kept in your school file, and if it was in your file, people talked. But they had no way of knowing unless they saw it. They only had suspicions and rumors, and that’s what Isaac had counted on for his entire life, that the rumor mill wasn’t strong enough to peak someone’s curiosity. If someone went snooping, they’d find out quite easily, and then the Marked became the hunted.

Luckily for Isaac, he was always just rumored to be Marked, never confirmed. He was bullied, and he never had any good friends, only vaguely kind acquaintances. He hated school until he moved into college. He was ostracized and mocked openly, his teachers sometimes gave him poorer grades for better quality work than his classmates, and he even endured the typical bullying of being shoved into his locker until he was too tall to fit, and then they just shoved him into the door as hard as they could.

He got bruises when he was at school that he had to cover up when he was at home, and he got bruises when he was at home that he had to cover up when he was at school.

No one cared if he was bruised, though, so he wasn’t sure why he bothered.

**From: Stiles**

**Where do you think dogs go when they die?**

**To: Stiles**

**Clearly they go to heaven, there’s an entire movie about it.**

**From: Stiles**

**Yeah, but do they go to their own heaven or to a separate dog heaven?**

**To: Stiles**

**How could I possibly know that?**

**From: Stiles**

**I dunno, I’m gonna start a poll. I’ll let you know what the result is.**

Isaac dropped his travel bag in the house, glad that his dad was at work instead of being at home, before heading down to the flower shop.

“Isaac,” the cashier, an old, kind lady that always smelled of roses even if the flower shop didn’t have any, said as he entered the shop. “I thought I might be seeing you this weekend. How’s school, sweetheart?”

In the entirety of the town that Isaac had grown up in, there were three people that were consistently kind to him. This lady was kind to him because his brother used to drive them to the store every year on their mother’s birthday, and they’d purchase a bouquet of bright yellow Gerber daisies and sunflowers. Every year, until Isaac had to drive himself, and pick out a bouquet for his mother, and then three weeks later drive himself back to pick out a bouquet for Camden. She was kind, and offered him help whenever his hands shook too much to choose the flowers, his grief overwhelming him.

“It’s good,” he said with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”

“Well, that’s good. I would hate for you to be in debt for something you hate.”

Yeah, lucky that isn’t happening at all, Isaac thought to himself.

“What do you have this weekend, Maggie?”

“Oh, you know I got the very best for you.”

She brought him to the correct section of the shop and together they put together a small bouquet, nothing extravagant but just simple and bright enough to embody the vibrancy that Michaela Lahey had brought into life.

His mom had been a bright beacon of laughter and joy, never dimming once before the accident. She had lit up their small two-floor house with her sheer force of will, and she never once let Isaac feel bad or weird about his soul Mark.

“It’s a blessing, Isaac,” she would say when tucking him in at night. “You are so special that God chose you out of all of the people on Earth to share this experience with someone equally special as you.”

“Then where is she? Why do I have to wait to meet her?”

When Isaac was little, he assumed his soulmate was a girl because he thought that everyone’s soulmate was the opposite sex than he was, because heteronormativity had deep roots in his town.

“You’ll meet them, you just have to be patient.”

Years later, and Isaac had found them, but he still didn’t know when he’d meet them. He didn’t want to be patient anymore. He didn’t want to have to wait for life to decide to blow his soulmate his way. He was victim to fate’s design and he was sick of it. He wanted to take life and fate into his own hands and bring his damned soulmate home where he would be safe.

Maggie bundled up the bouquet for Isaac, and only charged him half-price before sending him on his way. He stopped at the bakery for a freshly baked croissant, and then the café for a hot chocolate, and then at the dollar store for a funny hat.

This years was shaped like a tyrannosaurus rex.

He drove to the cemetery and parked along the road before heading in on foot. He carried his purchases to his mother’s grave and sat down with her, resting against her headstone. He laid the flowers there beside the ones his father must’ve left earlier in the day.

“Hey Mom. Happy birthday,” he said. “God, I have so much to tell you.”

He strapped on his t-rex hat and stared up at the sky. He talked while he ate his croissant and drank his cocoa. He remembered sitting on her bed on her birthday, crazy hats of various shapes and colors resting on their heads, drinking cocoa and eating muffins or croissants, whatever was freshest at the bakery that morning. They’d talk about whatever was going on in their lives, what they were excited about, what they were dreading, what they hoped to accomplish in the upcoming year.

“I found my soulmate,” Isaac said finally, after talking about his classes and his friends and his job. “I found him. Can you believe it? After all these years, he’s so close to being here. But, he’s not safe, Mom. He’s, I don’t know, Mom. His name is Scott. My soulmate has a name, an identity, a face. He’s Scott, Scott McCall, and based on what his brother has said about him, I think you’d like him.”

He sighed and shook his head. He didn’t even know that he liked him, but his mother had liked everyone. She had had an unerring faith in humanity, and she gave everyone chances that they didn’t deserve.

“I want you to look out for him, Mom. Bring him back home safely. Protect him from something worse than what’s happened to him already. I know I can trust you with this, with him. And Camden. Camden would like him. Scott’s a soldier, I don’t think I told you that. So, maybe Camden can keep an eye on him, bring a fellow soldier home to his family. Maybe if Camden had had someone looking out for him, he would have come home.”

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else, and instead just sat in silence in the cemetery. He could hear the _beep beep beep_ of a truck backing up, and the sound of cars driving past on the road. He watched birds flock overhead, heading somewhere far away. He felt like he might float away if he didn’t ground himself in something.

He focused on the cool marble at his back, on the leaves rustling in the big maple tree that shaded Michaela and Camden’s headstones, on the skittering of squirrels dashing between trees. He closed his eyes and focused on his own breathing, on the feeling of the ground beneath him, on the wiggle of his toes inside his socks, on the slight chill of the wind on his skin.

On the, on the, the….

It came in flashes, the ache in his shoulders as his arms were suspended above him holding his weight, the suffocating hot air pressing into his bare skin, the scrape of rough sandy dirt underneath the raw soles of his feet. He couldn’t breathe, the air around him thick like soup. The room around him was dim, beige even in the shadows, nothing was in it except him. He couldn’t move, and even if he could, it hurt everywhere.

A door opened and too bright light burned his eyes as it flooded into the room. A man with long dark hair pulled away from his face into a ponytail stepped in, a wicked grin on his face. A deep scar halved his left eyebrow and rose up into his hairline, and another thin scar cut through his lower lip. Contempt rose in Isaac’s chest and he wanted to lash out at this man, but his body was so weak, so weary. He just wanted to lie down and sleep for decades.

The man spoke to him in a deep, guttural tongue before laughing to himself.

Isaac didn’t recognize the language.

When Isaac didn’t respond, the man withdrew a small thin blade from his pants and grinned at him like he had made the man very happy. The man stepped closer to Isaac and he instinctively tried to shy away, draw his body away from incoming danger, but he could not. The man traced the tip of the blade over Isaac’s collarbone where his Mark rested, and he pressed it hard into the tender flesh.

He startled awake, the sun setting, and Isaac jumped to his feet in surprise and disbelief. He fumbled with his phone and dialed Stiles’ number, his hands shaking hard as he tried to keep his phone steadied against his ear.

It went to voicemail and Isaac hastily left him a more-than-likely barely understandable message, begging him to call Isaac as soon as he got the message.

“Stiles, I can’t believe it! It happened! That myth about seeing through your soulmate’s eyes sometimes! It happened to me! I saw through his eyes in a dream! I saw what he saw and experienced what he experienced, and I think, Stiles, I think I saw someone who is holding him! I don’t know what to do! What do I do? Call me back!”

He confirmed the message and tucked his phone away, turning and pulling up as his eyes fell on his father.

“Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am shameless when it comes to cliffhangers, I will admit, but I'm still not as bad as freshman and sophomore year of high school me was, so be grateful!   
> Yell at me for leaving you hanging in the comments so I know you like me :)  
> Also remember to kudos, subscribe, recommend (if you feeling saucy) and bookmark this if you liked it!
> 
> Also also, I added some tags to kind of warn you guys. There is some forced institutionalization in the coming chapters, and also very heavy prejudice towards Marked, so just be careful, guys. If this stuff doesn't sit right with you, or whatever, just, be careful. Take care of yourselves. You matter more than any fic ever would. 
> 
> DFTBA,  
> -K


	8. Chapter 8

“ _In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine_.” – Maya Angelou

**From: Stiles**

**ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? YOU SAW THROUGH SCOTT”S EYES I CAN”T BELIEVE IT**

**From: Erica**

**You won’t guess where I am right now!**

**From: Erica**

**I’m at Planned Parenthood.**

**From: Erica**

**I just realized what that sounded like! I’m not pregnant! Oh my god! That’s not what I meant! There’s a bunch of protestors outside and I’m protesting their protesting.**

**From: Erica**

**I’m awesome!**

**From: Stiles**

**Dude! Don’t leave me hanging here! Call me!**

**From: Stiles**

**If you weren’t the only way to get Scott home, I’d be pissed at you for doing this to me.**

**From: Erica**

**Isaac, where are you? You were supposed to be home today.**

**From: Erica**

**What the fuck**

**From: Erica**

**If he hurt you, I swear to god I will rip his tiny little testicles off**

**From: Boyd**

**Isaac, we’re really worried about you. Call me or Erica.**

**From: Matt**

**Where are you?**

**From: Erica**

**I SWEAR TO GOD ISAAC**

**From: Stiles**

**I’m worried, Isaac. Why haven’t you responded?**

**From: Stiles**

**It’s been a couple of days since you called me. Are you okay?**

**From: Erica**

**I drove to your house but you weren’t there, and I don’t know where you are. Please, call me back, Isaac.**

**From: Erica**

**I miss you.**

**From: Stiles**

**Are you still alive? It’s been a week now. I hope you’ve just gotten really busy or your phone was shut off or something. Please get back to me as soon as you can.**

**From: Stiles**

**Dude, if you don’t respond soon, I’m going to have to track you down.**

* * *

 

Isaac sat alone in the room, the mattress hard and unforgiving underneath him. The room was too bare to be even considered minimalistic. It was small, barely bigger than a broom cupboard, and they’d shoved a single bed into it on a creaky metal frame. The walls were the color of plaster still, as they had never painted it, apparently, and the floor was just a slab of scratchy concrete. Isaac wasn’t allowed a roommate, and even if he was, this room was hardly big enough for him, let along another human being.

He wanted to go back to his apartment where the room was off-white and carpeted, had all of his books and posters and clothes. Here he was allowed a pair of grey sweatpants and a shirt that reeked of other people’s sweat.

He didn’t belong here, but his father had had a different opinion.

His father had marched towards him and had snatched his arm in a tight grip. Isaac had managed to avoid this grip for years, but there he was. He tried to pull away but even after all these years, after the four inches he had on his dad, he couldn’t break the grip. He’d struggled as his father had dragged him, trying to grab onto something that would stop them, tried to dig his heels into the ground, but nothing was working.

“Dad, please, I won’t say anything else!”

“You weren’t supposed to talk about it in the first place! What have I told you! You disgrace our family with that filth! It’s unnatural! I won’t have any son of mine going around announcing it to the world! It’s bad enough that you’re a fucking fairy, but you have to be some scarred up freak!”

“Dad! I didn’t ask for this!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t ask for you either, so looks like we’re both stuck with some queer baggage.”

Isaac had flinched visibly at that, and his father had snorted, dragging him like Isaac wasn’t over six feet of muscle and unwillingness.

He was bruised, and achy, his too tall body barely fitting in the tiny, child-sized bed. He was allotted two skimpy meals a day, and he was so tired. He wasn’t even allowed out of the room except to go to the bathroom and to see the psychiatrist. He was heavily medicated, too, forced to swallow pills to keep him tame during his “visiting” hour. He mostly sat in the sun room, staring at the pond, too doped out of his mind to try and escape.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered to himself, or to Scott.

No, he was talking to Scott.

He wasn’t crazy. He didn’t talk to himself.

He didn’t deserve to be here. He didn’t belong here.

“I wanted to get you out of there, but I just landed myself in my own little hell.”

He snorted at that.

“Although, between you and me, our hells are vastly different. Yours, they beat you and mine, they drug me up like some mental patient.”

He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall.

“I am some kind of mental patient, I guess. I’m here, aren’t I?”

* * *

 

**From: Stiles**

**I’m coming to get you.**

**From: Erica**

**I met Stiles today. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen him, but that boy is cute. I wish I could italicize cute for you to understand. Like he is Grade-A QT pie, Isaac. He drove up from UCLA because he’s worried about you. Which I get he isn’t your soulmate, but if he was, that wouldn’t be too bad to spend your life with.**

**From: Erica**

**I don’t know what he’s planning on doing but I hope he gets to you soon**

* * *

“Come on, Isaac,” one of the attendants said, dragging Isaac up by the arm from his window seat. “Back to your hole.”

“No, I don’t wanna go in the hole,” Isaac slurred. “The dungeon is cold.”

“Should’ve thought of that before,” the attendant replied.

“Before what?”

“Before whatever you did to get yourself put in here.”

“I was born,” Isaac stated, blinking as he was lead through the twisting hallways back to his small, chilled cell.

“Maybe you should’ve reconsidered.”

Isaac was shoved into the room unceremoniously and the door slammed shut, the bolt on the other sliding harshly into place. Isaac took the two steps to the bed and tumbled into it, the frame screeching with the sudden movement.

Day in and day out, this was his life now. He didn’t know how long he’d been in here, and he didn’t know if anyone had realized he was gone yet. He’d tried to keep track of how many days based on how many meals he was given or how many times he’d been to see the psychiatrist but sometimes they never came for him, sometimes they never fed him, sometimes they never even let him out to go the bathroom. Some days he didn’t talk to a single person.

A flood of pain washed over Isaac from the bond and he groaned.

“Me too, Scott.”

* * *

 

**From: Stiles**

**Thank God for hackers.**

**From: Stiles**

**I’ll explain when I see you again.**


	9. Chapter 9

“ _Some souls just understand each other upon meeting._ ” -N.R. Hart

“What would you like to talk about today, Isaac?” the psychiatrist asked.

“Going home,” Isaac replied, lolling his head back to check out the ceiling. It hadn’t changed since the day before. The psychiatrist, Isaac hadn’t bothered to learn his name, sighed. It was the same every day. Isaac was led into the office by an attendant, normally one of the beefed up ones who always looked like they ate guys like Isaac for breakfast, and then the doctor would ask what Isaac would like to talk about, and all Isaac ever wanted to talk about was when he could go home.

“How about your relationship with your father? Or how’s college going?”

“It’d be going a lot better if I wasn’t locked up in here for no reason,” Isaac snapped.

“We just want to keep you from hurting yourself or someone else.”

“What am I even here for?”

“Isaac,” the psychiatrist said, shaking his head. “You’re here because your father thinks it’s best for you.”

“I’m not a minor anymore. He can’t just put me in here!”

“If he thinks that you’re a threat to yourself or the people around you, he can make that call as your next of kin.”

“Well, I’m getting a new next of kin, then.”

The psychiatrist laughed.

“So, tell me about your father, Isaac.”

“What? You want me to tell you that he’s abusive physically, verbally, and emotionally? You want me to tell you that I hate him because he threatens my life and then tells me that it’s my fault? You want me to tell you that my dad thinks that I’m a mistake because of something I never chose? You want to psychoanalyze that?”

The psychiatrist jotted down notes easily as if Isaac was just another patient. Isaac knew why he was here. He knew why he was _still_ here, despite the laws against him being there.

“How about that he’s a homophobic bigot that assumed that because I’ve never had a girlfriend that I’m automatically queer?”

Isaac rolled his eyes.

“Is that all he’d prejudiced about?” the psychiatrist asked. He probably knew exactly why Isaac was in there, but he refused to actually mention it. In return, Isaac never said anything, just in case his father hadn’t actually shared with the doctor why Isaac needed to be locked up away from society.

He didn’t want to be in the mental ward with a bunch of crazies anymore.

He was normally too out of it to notice the bunch of actual mental patients that also visited the sunroom during visiting hour, but sometimes the drugs hadn’t quite gotten to Isaac when he first arrived.

He had given them all nicknames the first time he was lucid enough to care. There were three that he still remembered; Cat Steve, a man that always talked to his imaginary cat friends, Hand Cross Sue, a woman who had to cross herself after every sentence three times, and Mary Magdalene, a woman just barely older than Isaac who thought she was the actual Mary Magdalene come back from the dead.

He wanted to tell Stiles about them; he’d get a kick out of the inhabitants here.

Something occurred to him.

“Is there any way that I can get a journal to write in? I have these nightmares sometimes,” he lied. He needed to sketch the man’s face before it went away and the people looking for Scott couldn’t use the information Isaac had.

“How do we know that you’re not going to harm yourself with it?”

“With a dream journal and a pencil?”

The psychiatrist nodded.

“You would be surprised what people are capable of doing.”

“I just want to write down my dreams, maybe you can psychoanalyze those tomorrow.”

He seemed to take a moment to decide.

“Talk to me for the rest of the session, and I’ll give you a journal.”

Isaac sighed, and thought of Scott. He would talk to this man because Scott needed him to. His soulmate needed him to.

“So, tell me about your father.”

“What else could you possibly want to know?”

“Well, was he always abusive? Did something happen between the two of you to cause a change?”

“The rest of our family died,” Isaac replied. “My mom died when I was young, and then my brother died a few years ago. My dad couldn’t handle the loss, and just changed. He started taking his grief out on the easiest, closest target.”

“What was he like before that?”

Isaac found himself taking in detail about his father and his life with him before and after Camden’s death. He hadn’t ever really talked about it, with anyone. He’d given Erica details here and there, and she’d figured the rest out for herself, but he’d never sat down and given her the whole story. Not like this.

When the buzzer sounded for the end of the hour, Isaac felt lighter.

“Thank you, Isaac.”

The psychiatrist, his nameplate on the desk read Dr. Daniel Murphy, got up from his chair, and walked over to a cabinet. He rooted through a drawer and pulled out a pencil and a composition notebook. He walked back to Isaac and handed it to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The door opened just then a big beefy attendant stepped through to drag Isaac back to his broom cupboard. Back in his room, he sat on the bed and closed his eyes, focusing on Scott, on the bond, on the distance between them, on the hell both their lives had become. The face he’d seen before of the man with the scars surfaced and Isaac opened the composition notebook to start sketching. He wasn’t a terrible artist, but he also wasn’t very good. He didn’t have any passion for art and hadn’t ever pursued it, but if he tried, he might’ve been better at it.

He tried his best, and was mostly satisfied with the outcome.

**From: Erica**

**I joined another protest, but to fight for the rights of the Marked.**

**From: Erica**

**This is for you, Isaac. There’s no reason not to treat you equally.**

**From: Erica**

**There’s no reason for people to call you that awful name.**

**From: Erica**

**We’re going to join a club or society when you get back to school. Or we could start one if there isn’t one. Whatever is necessary. We need to start fighting, not hiding. There’s no reason to be scared, I’ll be with you the entire time.**

**From: Erica**

**That is, if you ever come home. Stilinski sure is taking his time.**


	10. Chapter 10

“ _Our souls already know each other, don’t they?’ he whispered. ‘It’s our bodies that are new_.” **–** Karen Ross

They drugged him so heavily the next day that he couldn’t even form his own name. He just sat complacent on the couch watching the air move around him. Or were those blurs actually people?

He couldn’t tell.

It was as if they had taken him and dropped him into the slow lane of time and he was being sped by so fast that everything looked like streaks of color.

People should be bigger, he thought, so that he could see details when they streaked past.

Like those billboards in that book-burning book that they had to make super long so that the drivers in the super-fast cars could get all of the advertising possible.

He wondered just how long people could have to be for his to understand them.

If he looked in a mirror, would he look like a blur too?

Can you both be stood still and a blur?

A rough hand yanked him up out of the couch, was it a couch still, and dragged him into his mouse hole. He sank onto the screeching bed, and grabbed the composition notebook. He carefully drew a self-portrait of himself standing in front of a mirror but his reflection was just a streak of lines.

That’s how he felt.

He felt like there were two parts to him, one stuck with the parking brake engaged, the other racing circles around the one stuck. He felt like if the two halves of him wasn’t resolved, he might implode.

Or was it explode?

He didn’t really know the difference.

If the universe had been kickstarted by the Big Bang, which was an explosion of existence in a vast nothingness, would it be the opposite of kickstarted with an implosion?

Was an implosion the opposite of an explosion? Or were they two sides of the same coin?

He let himself fall sideways on the mattress, although it wasn’t much a mattress, it was more of a series of brick coils stuffed into a casing like a sausage. He fell into it gracelessly. As hard as it was, it still managed to feel more welcoming and stable than the couch in the center of the race track he’d been experiencing earlier.

He picked a spot on the plaster wall across from his bed and stared at it until he slipped into unconsciousness.

**From: Stiles**

**We’ve done it.**

**From: Stiles**

**I’m an actual genius.**

**From: Stiles**

**You and Scott owe me big time.**

**From: Stiles**

**No, that’s not true. I’m doing this because I care about you, and I care about him. I don’t need any thanks or favors. I just need you two home, safe, and together.**

**From: Stiles**

**Dude. Erica is intense. Props to you for being her best friend.**

**From: Stiles**

**I’ve been informed that Erica and I are very similar, and that being friends with Erica is the same as being friends with me. So double props to you.**

In the morning they doped him up just as hard and he sat in his regular spot, wondering if he could touch a rainbow in his weird slowed time dimension.

He heard the commotion from behind him but he was too busy focusing on the explosion/implosion debate he’d started up with himself the night before. He was pretty sure that he had decided that explosion meant energy being ejected out while implosion meant that the energy was being kind of cannibalized. He could be wrong. He had been absolutely awful at sciences in school. That’s kind of why he was an accountant major.

That was a lie, though. He was an accountant major because it was the only thing he was good enough for. You can’t fail at accounting. It’s basic math.

If there was anyone who could fuck up basic math, though, it would be him.

He wondered if he was an explosion or an implosion.

If he was an implosion, did that make his soulmate, the other side to his coin, an explosion? Or vice versa if Isaac was actually an explosion.

“Isaac?”

“ _Boom_ ,” Isaac made the explosion noise with his noise in response. He snorted at the funny noise he made, and tried to imagine an implosion noise. Would it be a backwards explosion? “ _Moob_!”

The giggles came out of nowhere, and he couldn’t stop. If he was an implosion, his noise totally would be _moob_. He was a _moob_ kind of person.

“What the fuck is he on?” someone asked. “Isaac Lahey?”

“That’s me,” Isaac said, looking up from his hands at a man in camouflage standing before him. “You know, there’s no trees around here for you to blend in with.”

“Isaac, I’m with the United States Army. I’m Lieutenant Colonel Mark Jacoby. We’re gonna take you to a hospital, okay? They’ll check you out there and let you come down from whatever these people gave you. Is that okay?”

“Can you do that?” Isaac asked, meeting the man’s meadow green eyes. “Can you get me out of here?”

“Yes, Isaac. I can get you out of here.”

“That’s, that’s great. Where are we going?”

“The hospital,” the camo man said patiently.

“Right. Right. Okay. I hope I don’t have to sign papers because I don’t think I can hold a pen right now.”

“No, there’s no paperwork. If you’ll come with us,” he said, gesturing for Isaac to stand.

“Right. Right. Standing. Lemme just, lemme figure out how to do that.”

He shuffled to the edge of the couch cushion and gazed down at his feet, trying to place them at the end of his legs which were capable of standing. He’d done it today, he was pretty sure.

He pushed himself up slowly and stood on shaky legs. The man with the camouflage steadied him by the elbow and very carefully began to lead Isaac on coltish legs out of the visiting room.

“There’s something I need!” Isaac blurted out as they reached the exit.

“What?”

“Scott’s captor!”

“What?” the man repeated.

“It’s in my room. The drawing.”

The man helped Isaac without question through the swaying halls to his closet cell. He tugged the composition notebook from underneath the bed and wobbled back out of the room. The man stared at the room surveying the closet-sized living space with a look of pure disgust on his face.

“Okay,” Isaac said, hugging the notebook to his chest and nodded at the camo man. “I’m ready to go.”

The man, what was his name again, gently took Isaac’s elbow and led him back out of the maze of halls to the exit. Isaac hadn’t been outside in- actually, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been in there. He’d tried to keep track at first.

But what was time anyway?

Arbitrary, really. It was man made in order to give order to their meaningless chaotic lives. Or something like that.

Maybe he should take a philosophy class next semester. He would be the fucking bomb at philosophy. Although, he might need to get extremely high before class in order to do that.

He was willing to make that sacrifice.

The camo man walked Isaac outside and Isaac just stopped staring up at the sun. It was warm, the wind blowing gently from the parking lot, rustling leaves in the trees in the park where other patients dressed in grey sweatpants and t-shirts were roaming back and forth. He admired the blue of the sky, and the flight of a bird overhead. He even admired the sight of cars parked neatly in a row off to the side.

“It’s beautiful out,” Isaac said, although he wasn’t sure who he was talking to. He wasn’t really intending to talk to anyone. “I love California’s weather.”

“You’ll appreciate it even more when you’re sober.”

He was herded into a large Hummer between two men in camouflage uniforms identical to the first camo man. He watched over one of the men’s shoulder as the car drove, trying to figure out where they were going. The first man, Isaac thought he might be a Colonel or something, had told him, but he couldn’t remember. Where were they going? He was afraid to ask, honestly.

He didn’t want to seem unreliable. Just because he couldn’t remember the rank and name of the camo man who had sprung him from the asylum doesn’t mean that he couldn’t be relied on to provide sufficient Intel.

Isaac let the notebook down onto his lap and flicked through the pages of his dream collections to the sketch of Scott’s captor. Before either soldier could look, he snapped it shut again and held it protectively against him.

They pulled into a hospital and the Colonel guy gestured for Isaac to follow him through the front doors and up to the Nurse’s Station.

“Hello. My name is Lieutenant Colonel Mark Jacoby, I’m with the United States Army,” he started and went on to explain Isaac’s situation. Isaac traced the hallway and the paintings displayed on the white walls. It was identical to his previous cage, except the nurse that came around smiled at him warmly. She had a kind face, and she reminded him of his own mother.

“Hi Isaac. My name is Melissa. Can you follow me? We’re gonna get you a bed to sleep in until you come down.”

“Where am I coming down from?” Isaac asked dazed.

She laughed a light, airy laugh that warmed Isaac from the inside out.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

She helped him down a few hallways and let him into a room bigger than his own bedroom at school with two hospital beds. They looked soft with clouds for pillows. Isaac followed her into the room and to the bed closer to the window.

“You can sleep here,” she instructed. She walked him through the procedure for nurse assistant, and promised him that she would be there when he woke up if he wanted. He nodded quickly, because as nice as the Lieutenant Colonel was, he wasn’t exactly a warm fuzzy guy.

“Thank you.”

She grinned at him.

“Get some sleep, Isaac.”

He climbed into the bed and lay down, his body relaxing into the mattress. It was the first time he felt safe since his father had grabbed his arm all those-

“Melissa?”

“Yeah?”

“What day is it?”

She told him and he stared at the floor dazed for a second, counting slowly. He had missed so many classes. He was going to automatically fail. What did he care, though? He hated his classes because he hated his major. It had been twenty three days since he saw Scott’s captor. He hoped he was still okay. He had to be.

“Twenty three days,” he said.

“What was that?” she asked kindly from the door.

“I was in that place for twenty three days.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” he said. Here now. He was out and in the hands of Scott’s employer. Here, he was one step closer to getting Scott home, he thought. Here, he decided that when he got back to school, he was changing his fucking major.


	11. Chapter 11

“ _You are the soul of my soul; a great, strong soul for my little soul to creep in beside and rest against_.” –A Sunless Heart by Edith Johnstone

 

When Isaac woke up, the sun was somehow higher in the sky and the room was lit up. Melissa was sitting at his bedside in jeans and a t-shirt, her dark curls pulled up in a high ponytail as she scratched numbers into a Sudoku book.

“Hey,” he said, his voice weak and scratchy.

“Good morning,” she said, looking up with a bright smile. “Feel better, sleeping beauty?”

“How long was I out?”

“Twenty hours.”

“Wow,” he muttered, shifting and reaching for the bed control.

“Did you sleep well, at least?”

“Extremely.”

“That’s good! So, those big buff army guys told me I should inform them the minute you’re awake, but I actually have someone who wants to talk to you first. And as he’s like my own son, I think I can bend the rules a little bit,” she said, rising. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

She swept out of the room before Isaac could protest, not that he was going to. He wondered who could possibly want to meet him, and why would it be Melissa’s almost son? He twiddled with his thumbs until Melissa popped back in the doorway a while later.

“Hey, are you ready?”

He nodded. She stepped aside and then a boy with wildly messy brown hair and wide brown eyes stepped in. He’d seen that face before in some of the selfies that Stiles had sent him over the course of their communication.

So many questions rolled through his mind. What took him so long? What did he find out about Scott? Why was he here? Was Melissa his step-mother, and therefore Scott’s mother? Was the nice nurse who took care of him actually his soulmate’s mother? What kind of weird coincidental world was this? How did he end up, in all places in Northern California, in his soulmate’s mother’s hospital?

“How?” was what came out of his mouth.

Stiles grinned.

“Hi Isaac. It’s nice to meet you in person. I have something for you, by the way. The Lieutenant Colonel had a soldier get your things from Eichen.”

He walked into the room and plopped heavily into a chair by Isaac’s bedside, holding out Isaac’s phone. Isaac took it and turned it on.

“Thanks.”

“That was Melissa, by the way. She’s Scott’s mom, if you didn’t already figure that out. She doesn’t know who you are, though.”

“She doesn’t?”

“No, I never told her I was trying to look for you to find Scott. I didn’t want to get her hopes up in case I never found you or you couldn’t help. She’s already in enough pain not knowing where her son is. She doesn’t need to start hoping that you’re our savior. I’ll shoulder that burden.”

“What does she know about me, then?”

“I told her that you were a kid I met online while trying to find my own soulmate.”

“You have a Mark?”

“I’ve never told you that? In all of the emails and text messages?”

“Not once.”

“Huh.”

He shrugged.

“Yeah, there was this random burst of soulmates in Beacon Hills the year that Scott and I were born. There were a bunch of us. Scott, me, Lydia, Danny, Jackson, it’s a long list. We all grew up together, especially in me and Scott’s case. We were brothers even before our parents got together.”

Isaac didn’t know what that felt like. He was one of the only ones with a Mark from his town. Everyone else had left, if they’d been there at all.

“I have something,” Isaac said, reaching under his pillow and dragging out his notebook. He flipped it open to the man’s face and looked it over before handing it to Stiles. “I saw a face.”

Stiles stared at him for a few moments before closing it and letting out a slow breath.

“Did you see Scott?”

“No, I can only see through his eyes when it happens. I’m in the situation as if I’m him.”

“Is he okay?” Stiles asked, his voice wobbling.

“From what I can tell, he’s hanging on. I don’t know about recently, though. The drugs they had me on and the strength of the doses dampened the bond, and I couldn’t feel anything Scott was feeling.”

“What about now?”

He felt the ache from Scott’s end of the bond. He wondered if Scott could see through his eyes sometimes. He wondered if sometimes when Scott slipped to slip in that dirty dungeon room, he could see Erica laughing or Isaac’s hands as they texted Stiles. What if Scott was asleep right now, and could see Stiles sitting across from Isaac?

“He’s still alive. I feel him there. He’s hurt, but he’s alive.”

Stiles let out a sigh of relief.

“We’re gonna bring him home, Isaac. Because this? This has got to be something useful.”

Isaac nodded and Stiles handed the notebook back over to him. He slipped it safely underneath his pillow. He glanced down at his phone and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. There were dozens of missed calls and voicemails and over fifty unanswered text messages from Stiles, Erica, Boyd, and Matt. There were extremely concerned emails from his teachers and warnings from administration and then final notices from the administration. He’d missed too many classes, and he had been automatically failed from every single one of them.

“Wow.”

“People were worried about you. I kind of Facebook stalked you to find Erica, and she was freaking out trying to contact you.”

Isaac laughed.

“If anyone missed me, it would be Erica.”

They lapsed into silence as Isaac got rid of his notifications one by one. He typed out a text to Erica, Boyd, and Matt respectively.

**To: Erica**

**I’m okay. I’m alive. I have no much to tell you when I get home.**

**To: Boyd**

**Hey, I’m alive, and I’m safe. Can’t wait to get home to you and Erica.**

**To: Matt**

**I’m sorry I left you hanging on the rent this month. I had some insane family drama at home and just, I’ll get your half next month if you want. I’ll be home soon. Hopefully.**

He looked through his emails.

“Hey, look, I should probably let the army have you now,” Stiles said, glancing at the clock on the wall across from Isaac’s bed. “But I’m here to talk if you need to. What you went through is rough as hell, and if you need someone to back you up no matter what, I’m here.”

“Are you just saying this because of Scott?”

“No, I’m saying this because you’re my friend, Isaac.”

Isaac paused and cocked his head to the side. He hadn’t ever considered that. He thought Stiles was just using him to get Scott home, not that he actually liked him.

“You know that, right? We’re friends. We’ve been friends since we started talking about things other than Scott. You knowing that I want to adopt every cat I see does not help us find Scott, so of course we’re friends. Of course, we are.”

Isaac nodded slowly.

“I’ve never really thought of it that way. I’ve never really had friends, not before Erica, and Boyd. Matt’s just a kid I got put with in freshman year and we were compatible enough to live together.”

“I only had Scott until it came out that we were Marked, and then we made friends with Lydia and the rest of our group, so I get it. I do.”

Isaac nodded.

“Isaac?”

“Yeah?”

“There are good people in this world, people that worry about you, and care about you, and don’t care that you have a bird on your shoulder. Here in Beacon Hills, no one cares if you’ve got a bond with anyone else.”

“But that place,” Isaac said.

“That place needs to be torn down. Eichen is a horror film waiting to happen. It’s not even technically in Beacon Hills anymore. It doesn’t help anyone, as the hospital has a much better psychiatric ward than Eichen ever has. What they did to you is inhumane and illegal.”

“What?”

“You know it’s illegal for them to hold you there?”

“My dad checked me in, said I was a danger to myself and people around me.”

“If they can’t prove a diagnosis, and you have a soul Mark, they can’t hold you. It’s illegal to commit the Marked just for being Marked. There are laws about it. If someone is Marked, there has to be a two-opinion diagnosis of an actual mental disorder before they can be committed, which some people argue should be used for every patient, but they’re not locking non-Marked people up for who they are, so that’s a load of shit, I think.”

He paused.

“I had a point.”

“You were talking about Eichen and how it’s awful-”

“Right! Thank you! Anyway! What I was saying was that there are people in this world that are mean and hateful-”

“Like my dad,” Isaac supplied.

Stiles nodded, and continued, “But for every mean and hateful person, there are bright shiny sun spots of pure joy. Erica, for instance. She is just, wow. She is a force all of her own. Calling her a hurricane is an injustice to her strength and sense of self. Ooooh. Never let her meet Lydia. That would be terrifying.”

He seemed to stop to ponder this before shuddering.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you, and that I couldn’t figure out what happened and how to get you out sooner. But I’m glad you’re safe now. That’s what’s important.”

Isaac smiled at Stiles as he stood.

“I’m going to get the army and let them talk to you.”

He left the room and the door swung shut behind him. Isaac emailed the administration from the college and informed them of his situation with shaky hands, including his illegal commitment to a mental institution against his will, and asked politely about changing his major and being re-admitted back in the next semester.

He sent a brief email apologizing to all of his professors, explaining that he’d had an emergency that had left him without any way of contacting them.

He emailed the E-Board of the QSU and explained that due to personal reasons, he would not be able to join them until, fingers crossed, next semester.

He, lastly and most reluctantly, dialed the number of the pizza parlor he worked for.

“Mama’s Pizzeria,” the voice said cheerily, probably Kira, the chatter of a busy kitchen in the background.

“Hi, uhm, it’s Isaac.”

“Isaac?” Probably Kira asked. “Where have you _been_?”

“Is Ash around? I kind of need to explain myself, make sure I can have my job back.”

“Good luck. Let me find her.”

He waited, listening to Kira move around the kitchen through the rustling ear piece.

“Ahh, found her. Ash! It’s Isaac! He’s not dead!”

“Give it to me”

The phone was passed off and Isaac prepared himself.

“You had _better_ have a damn good reason for leaving me without one of my best drivers during midterms, Isaac Lahey.”

“Well, I do. See, I’m one of the Marked, and I’m from this bigoted town that still use the phrase dreg to call us dirty and you know, Marked.”

She made a humming noise to signal she was listening.

“I was put, against my will, in an asylum for the last three weeks. I’m out now, and in the hospital, but I should be home soon.”

“Oh, Isaac. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just anxious to get back to my every day, you know? So I was hoping I could have my job back? I can understand if you filled the position or you don’t need me but I would really like to come back, and I still need the mon-”

“You never lost your job, Isaac.”

“You’re the best, Ash.”

“I know.”

“Alright, I have to go,” he said just as the Lieutenant Colonel walked through his hospital room door. “I’ll call you when I get back, okay?”

“Okay! Take care of yourself, Isaac!”

She hung up and Isaac set his phone on the bedside table carefully.

“Hello Isaac. Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t that doped up. Although I don’t remember your name.”

“Mark Jacoby, Lieutenant Colonel. I’m part of the team that is in charge of bringing McCall home, as well as other POWs.”

“Right.”

“Mr. Stilinski brought you to my attention, mentioning that you and McCall have a soul bond. What can you tell me about that?”

Isaac took a deep breath and went on to explain feeling Scott’s pain and his fear and knowing when he was being hurt or starved. He talked about the feeling of Scott’s Mark being burned off. He finally stopped, and told Jacoby about seeing through Scott’s eyes during sleep. He took out the notebook, flipped to the man’s face, and passed it carefully to the Lieutenant Colonel.

“This is him.”

He studied the face for a moment.

“Do you mind if I take this page, Isaac?”

“It’s for you. That’s why I drew it. I want you to find him, bring him home.”

He nodded and carefully tugged the page out of the notebook. He held it carefully and handed the notebook back to Isaac.

“Do you know him?”

“I think we might.”

Isaac didn’t expect that.

“Does it have to do with the radicals?”

Jacoby looked up win surprise.

“What do you know of the radicals, son?”

Isaac shrugged.

“They fuck shit up. They don’t care about race or gender or creed or sexuality. They have no affiliation with religion or politics. They just want to watch the world burn. They set up shop in the Middle East because it has the most political unrest and they were most likely to be mistaken for other radical groups that have a specific goal.”

Jacoby looked surprised again.

“How do you know so much?”

“Reporters, sir. Newspaper journalists.”

"Some of the dumbest, bravest people I’ve ever known, I will tell you that. To answer your question, I don’t know, but I have a hunch. I have to go, but we’ll be touch with you if we need anything else.” He stopped and finished a card out of his pocket and handed it to Isaac, saying, “And if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”


	12. Chapter 12

“ _I’m looking for you. I don’t know how you look like, or where and when I’ll meet you. Yet, I’m confident that when I find you, I’ll know_.” —  [unconventionalbuthappy](http://unconventionalbuthappy.tumblr.com/)

 

Isaac dropped his bag inside the door to his bedroom and texted Stiles to let him know he was alive and had made it safely back to campus.

**From: Stiles**

**Good. Text me when you leave, too.**

**From: Stiles**

**I’m serious. I need to know when you’re going to be going anywhere vaguely dangerous so I can have the army on standby.**

**To: Stiles**

**You’re ridiculous.**

**From: Stiles**

**You went home and landed in hell for three weeks.**

**To: Stiles**

**Touché**

He sent a message to Matt next to let him know that he was back in the apartment, so not to freak out when he came home later.

And then he called Erica.

“ISAAC JONATHAN LAHEY!” she greeted loudly. “It’s about time you called me, you know! One call from the hospital is not good enough! You should be in constant contact with me now! You want to walk from your bedroom to your kitchen? You had better call me. You’re thinking of going to work? L-O-L, you’re getting a ride-along. Are you alone right now? Because you shouldn’t be.”

Isaac laughed.

“Hi Erica. How are you? Me? Oh, I’m good. I’m glad to be home. Yeah, I would love to see you. Where do you think we could meet up?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but so are you.”

She sighed.

“I’m in the library, come meet me.”

“Where in the library?”

“Like you have to ask,” she scoffed. Isaac laughed and grabbed his keys.

“Do you want me to stay on the line with you until I get there or can I hang up?” he asked, heading back out after locking up the apartment. “Because believe it or not, despite what you and Stiles might think, I am capable of taking care of myself.”

“You went home and then disappeared for three weeks.”

“You and Stiles need to stop using that as if that explains everything.”

“It does! You went home and then disappeared! You don’t get to do that! Do you know how worried I was? Do you know, Isaac? I was scared out of my mind! You were just gone! You weren’t responding to my texts or my calls and I didn’t know what happened to you. All I knew was that you had gone home and I know what home means for you!”

“Babe,” he cooed, hearing the hysteria rising in her voice. “I’m safe now. In fact, I can see the library now.”

He jogged as he listened to her whine about missing him and how he need to be there right now. He took the side entrance, waving at the security guard, a big man named Tim who had always liked Isaac, then took the stairs up and up until he reached the top, quiet floor. He found her tucked in the corner, staring out the big stained glass window.

“Hey you.”

She turned and dropped her phone in her lap, big brown eyes watery as she held back tears.

“Come down here so I can hug you, Lurch!”

Isaac dropped to the ground beside her and she launched her body into his lap, displacing her notebooks and textbook. He held her close, burying his nose in her golden blonde hair, and they just sat like that for a while. He wasn’t sure how long, but he didn’t care. He didn’t have to start work until next week, and he didn’t have to worry about classes. He didn’t need to be anywhere any time soon, so he just held his best friend as tightly as he could, and let her hold him back.

She eventually slid off of him, but tucked herself into his side, picking up her books to resume studying.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he said, leaning down to kiss her on the top of the head. “What are you working on?

**From: Stiles**

**So I think we should Skype?**

**From: Stiles**

**That might be too weird**

**From: Stiles**

**But I kind of miss you**

**From: Stiles**

**I SPENT TOO LONG FINDING YOU FOR YOU TO JUST NOT BE IN MY LIFE**

**From: Stiles**

**So I demand that we Skype, because I miss your stupid face.**

Isaac showed the messages to Erica who snatched his phone before he could protest. He watched as she typed for him.

**To: Stiles**

**Hey it’s Erica you should definitely Skype with Isaac his username is isaaclayme**

**From: Stiles**

**That’s an atrocious username**

**From: Stiles**

**I have no room to talk though**

**From: Stiles**

**Mine’s AllTimeStilinski**

Isaac took the phone back from Erica.

**To: Stiles**

**AHAHAHA You’re pop punk trash**

**From: Stiles**

**How dare you! How da**

**From: Stiles**

**Yeah, actually, you’re right. It’s true. I’m trash. I accept my fate.**

**From: Stiles**

**At least my username isn’t some weird come on**

**To: Stiles**

**I made it like three years ago it’s not my fault**

**From: Stiles**

**I’m just saying, yours is lamer than mine**

**From: Stiles**

**And mine is pretty lame**

Isaac rolled his eyes.

**To: Stiles**

**Call me tonight? 8 sound okay?**

**From: Stiles**

**It sounds like a date!**

Erica shook her head.

“You went in search of a soulmate and found two, it’s amazing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and Stiles? If you weren’t meant to be with his brother, you and Stiles would be perfect for one another.”

“What? No, we’re not!”

“First off, you’re both nerds. You’re both weird, excitable, and strangely passionate when you care. And the cherry on top is that you’re both complete and undeniable assholes.”

Isaac scoffed.

“You can’t even dispute it. You’re an asshole, Isaac. Deal with it.”

“Fine, okay, but that doesn’t mean Stiles and I are perfect for each other.”

“You’re both stubborn as fuck. Look, in a world where there are no soulmates-”

“Scott would still be my soulmate,” Isaac interrupted. “That’s what soulmates are. There are no worlds or universes where Scott and I aren’t soulmates, because that’s what it means to be soulmates.”

She sighed loudly.

“Okay, but listen, Stiles would be perfect for you in a world where Scott didn’t exist.”

 “Maybe,” Isaac said. “But I don’t know if I want that world.”

Isaac looked down at his hands. He’d never even met Scott. He hadn’t talked to him or even texted with him. He didn’t know anything about Scott except what Stiles had been able to tell him. He hadn’t shared a meal with him, or held his hand, or watched his face light up over something he was passionate about. He had never done anything with Scott, but Isaac was still glad that Scott existed.

All of those times that Isaac was adrift before college, scared and friendless in his abusive household, Scott was like an anchor on the other end of the bond. He had had Scott’s presence to keep him sane, to keep him going. Scott’s mere existence had kept him alive.

In a world without Scott, there probably wouldn’t be an Isaac, apparently.

“You’ve never met him,” Erica voiced as if she could hear his thoughts.

“Imagine a world without Boyd.”

She took a sharp, quick breath.

“Except imagine a world where whenever you’re not together, even before you met him, that you could feel what he was feeling and just sense his presence in your life.”

She nodded.

“Imagine that there’s a piece of yourself walking around in someone else. Now, imagine that that person with that little piece of you just not existing. Can you imagine that Boyd had this small little Erica piece in him, and you a little piece of Boyd, and then one of you was just gone? What would that little piece in you, or in him, be striving for, then, when there’s not that other person?”

Erica tugged at her shirt.

“That’s how you feel?”

“Every day. Scott has a piece of me with him, that’s what the bond is. At least, that’s what I think it is. There’s not a bunch that’s known about the bond itself or where it came from, but everyone has theories.”

“Do you think there’s someone in the world with a Mark, but no soulmate?”

“I think that’s just a birthmark,” Isaac said.

She laughed.

“What about a person with more than one soulmate?”

“I don’t know, honestly. People’s research is sometimes sketchy and weird, unfounded and badly researched. Most people don’t know how to approach soulmates and Marks and bonds. They don’t know what it’s like, and when someone tries to explain, they can’t comprehend it. It’s hard to put into words this feeling of always having someone, never being alone even when you’re actually alone.”

“That sounds awful, actually.”

“It’s like, having a safety blanket with you at all times. For me.”

“Does it differ?”

“I haven’t really talked to anyone. Oh, I could ask Stiles. Hold on.”

“Stiles has a soul bond?”

“Yeah.”

Isaac pulled out his phone and dialed Stiles’ number.

“Yo! What’s up, home-slice?”

“That sounds even worse when you say it out aloud,” Isaac replied.

“Right, sorry. I’m awful. What are you up to?”

“I want to ask you about your soul bond. I’ve never had someone to talk to about it before, and Erica brought up something that I was curious about.”

“Sure, what are you curious about?”

“I’m gonna put you on speaker, okay?”

“Yeah! Go for it!”

“Hi Stilinski!” Erica crowed as Isaac tapped his screen and put it on speakerphone.

“Hi Reyes! What would you like to know?”

“Does your soul bond feel like? Does that make sense?”

“Yeah! Totally! Scott and I talked about this all the time when we were kids! For me, it feels warm, like drinking hot cocoa after coming in from trick or treating, or getting in a nice warm shower in the morning when you don’t want to wake up. Scott says that your bond feels like static electricity, or tingling excitement. He describes it as waking up on Christmas morning and that wonderful feeling that he used to get when he was waiting for Melissa to finish her coffee so they could open presents together.”

“Wow,” Erica breathed out. “And you feel that every day?”

“Every day,” Isaac and Stiles agreed.

“It’s amazing that even between soulmates, it’s different,” Erica stated.

“Yours doesn’t feel like Scott’s?” Stiles asked.

“No, uhm, mine feels like, like, sitting on the couch with a blanket around my shoulders, like I’m safe, and there’s no danger,” Isaac said.

Stiles made a noise on the other end.

“Can I ask you a question?” Erica asked Stiles. “I’m going to anyway. What’s your Mark look like?”

“It’s dumb,” Stiles murmured. “It’s this fucking heart shaped splotch, because why the fuck wouldn’t it be? Soulmates and hearts, those go hand in fucking hand, right? So why wouldn’t I get landed with a fucking shitty ass romantic heart.”

That sounded familiar to Isaac, but he wasn’t sure _where_ he had seen it before, or even if he had. It just, something about that struck him as familiar.

“Have you tried finding your soulmate?” Erica asked.

“Yeah, but it’s useless. There’s too many people searching for their soulmate on the internet.”

“Isaac found his.”

“Isaac found me, who knows his soulmate, that’s not the same.”

“You should never give up,” Erica stated. “They’re out there looking for you, and you can’t just give up on them.”

“No offense, but you’ve never had to look for a soulmate, Erica,” Stiles said wearily.

“No, I haven’t,” she said softly. “I don’t have a soul bond, but I do have someone that I would rather die than live without. Before I met him, I felt like I was missing something big, a part of me that I couldn’t identify, and then we met and everything was bright and colorful again. I’m not saying I know exactly what it feels like to have a soulmate but I would’ve searched the world over and over again to find Boyd, and he’s not my soulmate. Not technically.”

“I’m just sick of being expected to,” Stiles admitted. “I shouldn’t have to find them to feel like a whole person. It’s dumb that we’re thought of as halved without them.”

“You’re not half,” Isaac said. “You’re a whole person, you just happen to have another whole person that’s perfect for you.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Send me a picture of your Mark,” Isaac decided.

“Why?”

“Because I want to help, and I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you like it so far! We're so close to the end, and I'm excited for you guys to read what's coming!!  
> I just wanted to let you know that you can now find me on tumblr now at [scoottiemccutie](scoottiemccutie.tumblr.com), not deputy-heart-eyes! 
> 
> So, yeah!  
> DFTBA,  
> -K


	13. Chapter 13

“ _I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we’re from the same star_.” –Emery Allen

Isaac took a deep breath and stepped into the coffee shop, heading to Cora Hale’s table where she was hunched over a thick neuroscience textbook. She and Erica were in the same major, although with different concentrations, but he knew Cora from the Queer Student Union where she was the loudest, more powerful driving force to run the Union. Before that, though, when they were awkward freshmen, they had had three out of five classes together in the first semester, sharing their Gen Ed courses and becoming easy friends.

“Why do you look so nervous, Lahey?” Cora asked without looking up from her studying. “I’ve never seen you look so nervous before.”

“You’re not even looking.”

She raised her head and stared at him, raising her eyebrows.

“Sit, Lahey. Talk.”

Isaac slid into the seat across from her and nodded unsurely. He didn’t want to be the one to bring this up, because he didn’t want to lose her fragile good favor. Cora was fiercely protective of the people that she loved and cared about, and Isaac knew that this was not a subject you brought up with her lightly. He’d been thinking about it ever since he’d gotten the photo from Stiles of his soul Mark.

It had been a week since, and he had just finally worked up the courage to text Cora.

**To: Cora**

**Hey! I was wondering if we could hang out sometime this week. I have a couple things I want to talk to you about, and I miss you honestly.**

**From: Cora**

**Like you have to ask, Lahey. I’ll be studying at Jitters when I’m not in class, so just drop by!**

**From: Cora**

**I missed you too.**

So here he was, about to ask Cora about her number one Not Talked About topic.

“I need to talk to you about Derek.”

She raised her head and her eyebrow simultaneously. She was gorgeous, and terrifying, Isaac had always thought. She also had the most impressive eyebrows on campus, those eyebrows he assumed to be hereditary after having seen Derek in several movies.

“No.”

“Cora, I think I found his soulmate.”

“You and everyone else on the goddamn planet, Isaac!” she snapped.

He had to approach this more delicately because he knew he was right. But he also knew Derek had been through _a lot_ in the past couple of years.

“Look, I know how protective you are of Derek. I know you don’t want anything to hurt him-”

“That’s not even half of it. This isn’t just my decision, Isaac. It’s Derek’s. He literally hasn’t talked about or let anyone else talk about his Mark in two years. People come up to him and claim that they know who his soulmate is or that they are his soulmate. He’s had enough of people proposing that they’re his soulmate when they’re not, and I stand behind him. Especially since that Jennifer Blake scandal. If he weren’t Derek Hale, then no one would give a shit about his Mark except for his soulmate. But because he’s a great actor and moderately attractive, he’s bombarded with people who care about something that doesn’t concern them. He didn’t sign up for his private life being exposed on the internet.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you know what his Mark looks like, huh?”

“Because I was reading this article about celebrities that were open with their soul Marks, which led into an article about celebrities with Marks that had been leaked,” Isaac said with a shrug.

“And why do you care about that?”

Isaac tugged over the collar of his shirt to reveal his own Mark, Cora’s eyes widening in surprise in response.

“Because I do,” he replied.

“How come you’ve never said anything?”

He shrugged.

“I didn’t even tell Erica and Boyd until about two months ago. I was just scared that people would judge me or hate me. My hometown isn’t the most accepting, liberal place in the world. I just thought it was better to keep it to myself, but-”

He trailed off, the thought of Scott washing a smile over his face.

“I just want my friend to find his other half, you know? And I think Derek is it.”

“Have you?” Cora asked after a beat, her eyes trained steadily on his face like she was mapping it slowly.

“Have I what?”

“Found your other half.”

“I’m close to it. I’m just waiting on some good news.”

She smiled warmly at him.

“Okay, tell me about your friend.”

Isaac told her all about Stiles, about his insane motor mouth, and his intense passion for people he cared about, and how he didn’t stop until Isaac was out of Eichen House. She nodded and listened as he told her about how Stiles was his soulmate’s brother, and how they had met. She asked questions when Isaac was too vague, and when he was done, she sat quiet for a few minutes.

“Does he know who Derek is?”

He paused.

**To: Stiles**

**Yo do you know who Derek Hale is**

**From: Stiles**

**No clue, why?**

**To: Stiles**

**He’s a friend’s brother from right around Beacon Hills**

**From: Stiles**

**Believe it or not I don’t actually know everyone from Beacon Hills**

**From: Stiles**

**Dad might though**

**To: Stiles**

**Nah it’s not important, I was just curious**

**From: Stiles**

**Alright?**

“No, he doesn’t know Derek.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Stiles doesn’t fake not knowing something. Ever. He’s pompous about things he knows.”

“Pompous?”

“It’s not quite the right word to describe him,” Isaac said. “But it’s closer than anything else.”

She nodded.

“Although, asshole works _really_ well. Like, he’s a great guy and everything, but he doesn’t have a filter so he just says the first thing that comes to him. And most of the time, it isn’t very nice.”

“He’ll fit in very well with Laura,” Cora stated.

“So, what do you think?”

“Show me a picture of him?”

Isaac flipped through his pictures to a selfie that Stiles had sent him and turned the phone towards Cora. She studied it carefully, expressionless.

“He’s cute,” she decided. “And his Mark?”

Isaac swiped through the pictures again until he reached the very last one, a high quality photo that Stiles had taken in a mirror and sent to him with a frowny face. He showed Cora, whose perfectly controlled facial expression couldn’t contain the surprise.

“Wow,” was all she said, reaching out to magnify the photo.

She stared at it for a while before sitting back.

“I want to meet him, before he goes anywhere near Derek. I want to meet him and talk to him and decide if he’s worthy of being in my brother’s life, okay? He’s one of my best friends and I will decide if this, what’s his name? Stiles, what even kind of name is that? Anyway, I will decide if Stiles gets the green light.”

“I think I can manage that.”

**To: Stiles**

**I need you to drive up here when you get the chance.**

**From: Stiles**

**????????????????????????????????????????????????????**

**From: Stiles**

**Too cryptic, don’t like it**

**To: Stiles**

**I can’t really give you details but it’s good? And you’ll want to do it?**

**From: Stiles**

**I’m not having sex with you or any of your friends.**

**From: Stiles**

**I’m also not going to pose naked for anything.**

**From: Stiles**

**I’m not gonna do it.**

**To: Stiles**

**You’re ridiculous. There’s just someone I want to meet.**

**From: Stiles**

**Does this have to do with that guy Derek you were asking me about? Are you trying to set me up? Because I have a soulmate. Does he know that I have a soulmate?**

**From: Stiles**

**Because I’m all for getting some dick, but like, the rest of my life is kinda spoken for already**

**To: Stiles**

**Do you cockblock yourself like this all the time?**

**From: Stiles**

**So it is a person I could potentially get some dick from?**

**To: Stiles**

**Not if you keep acting like this thirsty**

**From: Stiles**

**I can’t help it. Thirsty is part of my personality**

**To: Stiles**

**Will you just come up here?**

**From: Stiles**

**Yeah, I have a free day on Friday. I’ll be there around noon?**

**To: Stiles**

**Sounds good. Skype tonight?**

**From: Stiles**

**As if I could wait until Friday to see your face!!!!!!**

**From: Stiles**

**Too many exclamation points. Sorry.**

* * *

 

Later that night, Isaac signed onto Skype after a short shift at Mama’s and was immediately bombarded with messages from Stiles.

**Stiles: I can’t believe you made me wait this long**

**Stiles: What kind of friend are you?**

**Stiles: Ready or not, I’m calling you. You better be dressed.**

The call invitation popped up on Isaac’s screen, and he accepted it. Skype took a second to load the screen, but then Stiles’ face in his room appeared on his screen.

“Hey! Can you hear me?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, can you hear me?”

“Yes! Excellent! Okay! So what’s up?”

They didn’t really talk about anything significant. They talked about customers that Isaac had dealt with, and assignments that Stiles hated but still had to do, and whether or not Stiles should get take out for dinner instead of making his own dinner. They talked about their days, about their professors, their majors.

“Oh, speaking of!” Stiles interrupted himself. “Did you sort everything out with your major and starting back up in the spring?”

“Yeah! I’m officially a LGBT Studies major with a minor in Civic Engagement, and I’ll be returning to school in the spring. It’s gonna take me longer to graduate, but it’s, it’s worth it. I’m heading towards where I actually want to be.”

“That’s great, Isaac!”

“What are you majoring in, again?”

“Criminology with a minor in linguistics,” Stiles replied. “I want to be a deputy, like my dad.”

“That’s adorable,” Isaac replied.

“Shut up.”

“You are, you’re adorable. Is your dad nice?”

“He’s great, oh my god. He’s always been so understanding, and he’s the Sheriff of Beacon Hills so he’s moral and I just, I only had him growing up. My mom died before I was ten, and I was already grown and fully baked and everything when he got married to Melissa.”

Isaac nodded.

“Stiles, did you tell Melissa who I was?”

“No, I’m still waiting for the call from the army. I want Scott to meet you before I thrust you into our family dynamics. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s completely fine. It’s your family, your choice.”

“I just want, I don’t know, you and Scott to have a chance.”

“We’re literally perfect for each other, Stiles.”

Stiles shook his head.

“There’s some studies done on the happily ever after that everyone believes comes when soulmates meet,” Stiles replied. “Most people think that you meet your soulmate and then you’re done, you’re happy for the rest of your life, but that’s not how it works. Do you know that thirty-three percent of soulmates break-up or get divorced within five years of marriage? Non-soulmates divorce at a rate of forty to fifty percent, so the percent of people destined for each other is almost as high. Just because we’re supposed to be perfect for each other, doesn’t mean our future together is guaranteed, you know?”

Stiles sighed.

“I know that even Marked people have struggles when it comes to love and relationships but why can’t we at least have some guarantee that it’ll work out? We have to face insane prejudice and hate crimes, for what? Thirty-three percent chance of failure? Is it even worth it at that point?”

“That means there’s a sixty-seven percent chance of success,” Isaac reminded him.

“Yeah, but with my luck-” Stiles paused and his eyebrows furrowed. “Who is calling me this late at night?”

He frowned.

“I’m gonna answer this, hold on.”

He muted his microphone and answered the call. Isaac watched Stiles’ face as the conversation progressed. His face changed from confused to understanding and then, then suddenly, he was jumping up out of frame. His body blurred as he bounced around excitedly, the video chat unable to keep up with him.

The video cut out, and then the call dropped.

Isaac waited, and waited, and waited.

Then, Stiles called him back. He accepted the call invite.

“Wha-”

“They found Scott! He’s alive! He’s coming home!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting so close to the end, babes! Also, the Stiles/Derek plot will probably be continued and concluded in a sequel/spin-off short fic that I will post AFTER we're finished with this story. Thank you all for commenting! Please continue!!!!  
> You can find me on [tumblr](scoottiemccutie.tumblr.com)!!!
> 
> DFTBA,  
> -K


	14. Chapter 14

" _The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind I was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along._ " _-Rumi_

“Are you serious?” Erica interrupted him, shoving her tray aside to scooch further up the booth seat. They were at a dining hall the next day, Isaac waiting on confirmation from Stiles that Scott had been flown home safely. He wouldn’t be able to see him for a while, but that was okay. He could wait. He was just glad that they had found him, that the face that he’d seen in that dream had led to Scott’s homecoming. He was useful for once in his life. “So, he’s safe? He’s good?”

“Yeah, he’s being flown to a military hospital where they’re gonna treat him for his injuries and begin whatever treatment and therapy he’s gonna need to start healing, but he’s gonna be stateside by tomorrow at the latest, I think.”

“That’s great, Isaac!”

Isaac hadn’t stopped smiling since the Skype call.

“Okay, tell me about your birthday,” Isaac insisted, although he wanted to talk about Scott more.

“Birthday sex,” Erica said with a grin. “Like you expected anything else. You were great help in picking out the scents and everything.”

“I’ve sniffed enough candles with you, Erica.”

“True. Speaking of, do you want to go to Bath and Body with me tonight? I need a new hand lotion.”

He chuckled, leaning back easily in his side of the booth.

“Yeah, I’ll always go to Bath and Body with you, you know that.”

She grinned at him.

“I do know that. I like that you reject typical gender roles and go shopping with me without embarrassment.”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about? A guy’s got to moisturize, too. I’m not having ashy hands just because society deems it gay or feminine for men to use lotion, and everything marketed to men smells like a man cave or a locker room. I don’t really want to smell like a sweaty gym sock.”

“I love you, Lahey. Never change.”

“Not for anything, Reyes.”

It was so easy to be himself with Erica. He didn’t have to worry about putting the right image up, or whether or not he would offend her. If they did offend each other, they always apologized and made up because there was no one more important to them- well, no one more platonically important to them. They fought like brother and sister, and made up like best friends because they were always truly sorry. No one forced them to apologize, they just did because they had to in order to survive.

It was safe to say that he adored Erica, even when she was a brat and obstinate and rude. Even when she was lashing out to instinctually protect herself. Even when she pushed him away because she didn’t want to appear weak due to her disorder. Even when they fought for three days straight, so loudly that they were both hoarse, and so quietly that Isaac couldn’t remember what Erica’s smile looked like. He adored every fiber of her being; he wasn’t obligated to, that’s what made her more enticing to him in the beginning. She wasn’t family that he had to tolerate, like his uncle Syd who never talked to Isaac except on Christmas every year. She had always been there since they’d met and she had earned the rank as his best friend, and she intended to stay there for the rest of their lives.

And he was inclined to let her.

* * *

 

**From: Stiles**

**He’s officially on US soil!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**From: Stiles**

**I’m not even gonna apologize for that many exclamation points. The news warranted that many.**

Isaac got the text message when he was delivering a pizza to one of the mainly freshmen dorms on campus. He nearly threw the pizza box in excitement, but remembered that he needed the tips from his deliveries in order to help pay his end of the rent. He finished the delivery as efficiently as he could, so elated that he ended up smiling at the group of girls who in turned gave him a tip totally more than fifty percent of their order. He called Stiles as soon as he was back in the car, tucking his tip into a separate portion of the money pouch.

“That was fast,” Stiles laughed. “I thought you were at work.”

“I am, but part of my job is driving back and forth from places, so I have free time.”

“Are you driving right now?! That’s not safe, Isaac! Pull over right now! I will not be the cause of your death!”

“I’m not driving, it’s okay,” Isaac laughed. “Besides, I have this phone holder that I use when Erica calls me. Which is often. She thinks that I’m, I don’t know- tell me about Scott.”

“I don’t know much. He landed and they transferred him to an army hospital near San Diego. We can go down and see him in a few days,” Stiles said, and Isaac could hear how happy he was. “Melissa, Dad, and I are going down on Frid- Oh, I’m supposed to meet that person you wanted me to meet that day.”

“Yeah, it’s fine, she’ll understand,” Isaac said. “Trust me. She’ll understand that your brother takes precedent.”

“It’s a she? You know I’m not really into girls, right?”

“That’s bullshit, Stilinski!” someone shouted from Stiles’ end of the call.

“Okay, I’m into girls, but I’m preferential to guys.”

Isaac laughed.

“She’s just someone who I think knows your soulmate, and think of her as their bodyguard. You have to get through her to meet him.”

“Interesting. Why is this so secretive?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Isaac said. He started up his car, and put Stiles on speaker. “It’s just how she is. You’ll see when you meet her. It’s obvious.”

“That’s strange and cryptic,” Stiles replied. Isaac started the drive from campus to Mama’s, while Stiles continued to talk. “I don’t like the way you act when you’re talking about her. You get all-”

He made a noise that Isaac couldn’t interpret.

“Oh, fuck, I just ran that red light. Shit.”

“Isaac Jonathan Lahey, I swear to god, if you are driving and talking on the phone, I will actually murder you if you don’t kill yourself on accident. And as the son of a police officer, you really need to follow the law-”

“You have no room to talk, Stiles! You’re the worst person when it comes to following the law!”

Isaac laughed.

“I’m dumping all of you as friends. I’m done with you.”

Isaac pulled into the back parking lot of Mama’s.

“Stiles?”

He shut the car off and popped the door open.

“I have to go work now. Call me later.”

“Okay, sure, yeah, go deliver those pizzas. Don’t get yourself killed.”

* * *

 

**To: Cora**

**Can’t make it Friday, soulmate is home!!!**

**From: Cora**

**That is amazing! Just let me know a time when you’re all settled in!**

**To: Cora**

**You’re the best**

**To: Erica**

**I need to talk to you tonight.**

**To: Erica**

**It’s nothing serious, but I need my best friend. My place or yours? I’ll bring pizza and wings. Or Chinese. Or I don’t even care. I just have so much to talk about and you’re the only one that I really want to talk about it to.**

**From: Erica**

**My place. Bring Thai.**


	15. Chapter 15

“ _And then my soul saw you and it kind of went, oh there you are. I've been looking for you_.” –I Wrote You This; pleasefindthis

**From: Stiles**

**I talked to Scott about you. He wants you to come up when you have a day off. He wants to meet you.**

Isaac dressed carefully the morning of his day off, a Wednesday when there was a lull in pizza orders because no one had money to order pizza at that point. He called Erica to consult on his outfit, because she always had an opinion.

“Okay, so you don’t want to look like you’re trying to impress him, but you still want to look gorgeous. Although, that’s kind of your natural state of being, which is just unfair to the rest of us lowly human beings.”

“You’re starting to sound like Stiles.”

“Good. So, I think you should definitely go with black, or white, you look really good in either of those.”

Isaac pulled out a white v-neck and held it up to his torso.

“Are you sure?”                         

“I mean, you could always go naked, that always works for you.”

He sighed.

“Not helpful.”

“I’m just saying, the boy could use it, probably.”

“Erica.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll behave. Just wear a simple shirt, some well-fitting dark jeans, and one of your dark jackets. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“You just told me to show up naked.”

“Okay, but of the suggestions you’ve actually taken, have I ever steered you wrong?”

Isaac sighed again and laughed, because Erica was right. She gave him ridiculous choices, some of which weren’t meant to be taken seriously, but the legitimate ones, they were actually good.

“Okay. Thanks, Erica. I’ll call you when I’m done later,” he said.

“Are you staying down there?”

“No, I have to be back here tomorrow for work, but I’m gonna ask Ash for a couple extra days off next week if today goes well.”

“I bet it will. You’re a likeable guy, Isaac. And this is literally the person you’re destined for. I’m sure everything will be great, you just have to have a little more faith. You’ve waited so long and worked so hard and been through so much. You and he deserve to be happy, and I believe that you deserve to have this work out. And even if everything doesn’t fall into place at first, I also believe that you will work hard to make it work out. Boyd and I don’t always get along.”

“You can’t compare me and someone I’ve never met to you and Boyd.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not the same thing. You and Boyd are, well, as close to soulmates as possible without being soulmates,” Isaac said.

“So?”

“It’s just not fair to put my tiny, potential relationship against BoydandErica.”

“But you’re soulmates.”

“Stiles brought up that there’s a high chance of soulmates getting divorced, and-”

“Screw that statistic. It’s nothing but numbers on a page. This is real life. You and Scott are gonna be fine. You just can’t psych yourself out.”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I need to get going. I promise I’ll call you.”

**To: Stiles**

**I’m heading out now. I should be there in an hour.**

* * *

 

Isaac pulled up to the army hospital and stared through the windshield at it. It looked just like any other hospital, but Isaac didn’t really have fond memories of hospitals. He knew it probably seemed more daunting than it actually was, but it seemed pretty damn daunting.

A knock startled him, but when he turned, he found a grinning Stiles at his window.

“Hey!” Stiles said as Isaac shut the car off and climbed out. He tucked his keys into his pocket and stared up at the hospital without responding. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Hospitals always meant lying,” Isaac replied, “always saying I tripped on the stairs or got injured in lacrosse when-”

He shrugged.

“I just don’t like hospitals.”

“Yeah, but this hospital has your soulmate in it!” Stiles said. “He’s doing great! He still needs some time here, but they’re sure he’s gonna make a full recovery. So, come on.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “What if we’re not ready for this?”

Stiles gave his shoulder a warm, comforting squeeze.

“We’ll go together, and I’ll introduce you. I’ll hang around outside of the door until you’re comfortable, and if you get too uncomfortable, you can step out of the room, and I’ll talk you through it.”

Isaac chewed his lip while staring up at the hospital, counting the floors.

“I don’t want to mess this up.”

“I know. And that’s okay.”

“He’s literally my other half, Stiles. I’ve seen through his eyes and felt his pain, and I’ve dreamt of meeting my soulmate for years. What happens if I fuck it up or we don’t get along? I can’t, I’d rather not know.”

“I refuse to let that happen,” Stiles said. He slid his hand down to Isaac’s wrist, and tugged him towards the hospital. “I am nothing if not a catalyst for conversation, even if I have to carry it myself mostly. I know you, and I know Scott, and I know that you’ll be good for one another, even if you have to be awkward with one another for a while.”

“Is this gonna suck?” Isaac asked, following Stiles across the parking lot and into the hospital. There were men and women in fatigues everywhere, drawing Isaac’s attention as they crossed the lobby to the elevators. Isaac had a, well, a _thing_ for people in uniforms. He’s not sure what the _thing_ was, whether he was attracted to the authority or the way the fatigues fit. His brother had sent a Christmas card of his brother’s unit to Isaac one year and Isaac was unbelievably attracted to everyone in the photo, save his brother. He still had in in his apartment, tacked next to his class schedule on the corkboard attached to his desk. It was one of his favorite photos of Camden, and not just because his unit was unfairly attractive. Camden was grinning, his arm slung around a good buddy of his, another guy’s around his waist. He looked happy which was rare since their mother’s death, even for the ball of sunshine that was Camden Lahey.

“Are you having a crisis over the hot men and women of the United States army?”

“Is it wrong to say yes when we’re in the same building as my soulmate?”

“No. I understand. You should see Scott in his uniform, though. He’s not blood related so I feel not weird informing you that he is smoking hot in that uniform. Like, if I were attracted to him, I would jump him so hard.”

“Wow, thirsty really is a part of your personality.”

Stiles laughed, stepping onto the elevator and tugging Isaac with him.

“I’m just saying, he’s a ten out of ten, if not higher.”

“You know you don’t have to sell Scott to me, right?”

Stiles laughed.

“I always feel like people aren’t going to understand just how precious Scott McCall is, because he’s like sunshine personified.”

“I know, you’ve told me.”

“I’m just saying. He’s great.”

“I know.”

“It’s just that Sco-”

“Stiles, I get it. Scott is the most beautiful, wonderful, pure being in the whole of the world and we’re all blessed to be in his presence.”

“I do talk about him a lot, huh?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“He’s just important to me. He’s been my best friend since I was 4, and he’s my brother, and he’s just, you know, if he weren’t my brother, he would still be my brother. If that makes sense.”

They reached the floor and Stiles stepped off. He didn’t pull Isaac along, just beckoned him with wide, earnest eyes. Isaac followed, pausing in the elevator lobby to look around. It was a quiet floor, a single large desk set in the corner of the lobby with a pair of nurses who were chatting and flipping through magazines.

“You okay?” Stiles asked, waving at one of the nurses watching them. “You need a minute?”

“Yeah. I just- this is so big. This is unbelievably big. I can’t even comprehend the magnitude of what’s about to happen.”

Stiles pulled Isaac into a tight, unbelievably _nice_ hug, even if Stiles was a few inches shorter than Isaac. Isaac wrapped himself around Stiles in response, and they stood there for a while, holding tight as if they had no other plans for the day, as if when they broke apart, one might float away. Stiles smelt of cinnamon sticks and clean laundry, and he hugged like he was trying to put all the broken pieces of Isaac back together. Maybe he was trying to put himself back together too.

“Are you okay now?” Stiles asked quietly into Isaac’s shoulder.

“I think so,” Isaac answered, although neither of them let go just yet. Stiles seemed to be waiting on Isaac to let go, and Isaac wasn’t sure he was ready to face what lay on the other side of the embrace. He was nervous to meet Scott, and anxious to do it already. But he didn’t want to come on too strong, or too weird, or too _something_.

Finally, Isaac let out a breath and stepped back, letting his arms fall away from Stiles slowly, lingering in his personal space unsurely. Erica’s insistence that Stiles would be his soulmate in a world without ­­Scott floated to his mind and he laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just something Erica said,” Isaac explained, shaking his head. “I think I’m ready.”

Stiles grinned and took Isaac by the wrist again, leading him with slow, steady steps through one hall and down another until they reached a closed door. He rested his hand on the handle and looked at Isaac for confirmation.

Isaac took a deep breath, and nodded.

Stiles swung open the door and led him inside. Isaac’s footsteps faltered as he finally, _finally_ let his gaze fall on Scott. Stiles had never sent him a picture of Scott, and despite Erica’s urgings, he had never looked Scott up on Facebook. This was the first time he had seen his soulmate’s face, and he-

He had no words.

Scott sat upright in the hospital bed, tanned skin contrasted against the white medical gown. His jaw and eye were swollen, although Isaac could tell that it was starting to heal, and there were wrappings on his arms and around his shoulder. There were others, Isaac was willing to bet, that he couldn’t see. He was-

Isaac was blown away by how beautiful Scott was, despite and because of the bruising and scrapes.

What did Isaac ever do in his life to deserve a soulmate that looked like _that_?

“Wow,” Isaac breathed quietly.

“Isaac, this is Scott McCall. Scott, this is Isaac Lahey,” Stiles said, tugging Isaac into the room and then pushing him into a chair by Scott’s bedside. He smiled at them both before heading out.

“Where are-” Scott started.

“You two are adults,” Stiles stated. “You can handle this by yourself. And if not-”

He gave Isaac a look, then.

“You know where I’ll be.”

He stepped out of the room, closing the door, and leaving Isaac alone with Scott.

“Uhhh,” Isaac said, staring at the door. “So, I’m Isaac.”

Scott smiled easily at him, and it lit up his entire face. He was stupidly attractive, so attractive that Isaac couldn’t _handle_ it.

But neither of them could say anything else.

They say in silence, waiting for the other to speak first.

“I didn’t want a soulmate,” Scott blurted out. Isaac looked up, surprised, hurt even. “I hated the bond that we had and I even wanted to hate you most of my life, even though I didn’t know anything about you. I was so angry that someone or something had decided my fate already. I wanted to be in control of myself and where I ended up and who I loved. I couldn’t do that. I was tied to you, and only you, and it pissed me off, because I wasn’t- I sound like an asshole, but there’s a point to this. I promise.”

Isaac nodded slowly.

The first words out of Scott’s mouth were not what he expected. He had never imagined that Scott would say _that_ to him.

 “I tried dating, men and women, but they never felt right. I read a lot of those cheesy soulmate romance novels, and they always mentioned dragging their fingertips over their soulmate’s Mark, and I could never do that with them. I always went to bed thinking that there was always someone out there waiting for me, and they were literally the person I was supposed to be with.”

He shook his head and rolled his shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m still a little sore.”

“I can imagine,” Isaac replied. “You went through Hell over there.”

“Yeah, Stiles mentioned that you could feel what I was going through. I’m sorry about that. I never would’ve wished that on anyone, and especially you.”

“I’m sorry you had to feel what I was going through when we were growing up.”

Scott took a sharp breath.

“You don’t need to apologize for that, Isaac. That was not your fault.”

“The same goes for you, you know. What happened to you out there, it’s not your fault. You, me, we’re victims. We’ve been put through the worst things possible, but we survived,” Isaac said. He shrugged. “When I was, when my dad used to-”

He stopped. Breathed.

“My dad used to beat me,” he said, figuring if there was someone he could trust with this, it would be Scott. “He used to abuse me physically, mentally, emotionally. My friend, Erica, used to tell me that the strongest thing I ever did was get up every day.”

Scott watched him, eyes tracking over Isaac’s everything.

“The strongest thing you did was keep living,” Isaac said with another shrug.

“You’re what made it so hard to hate you, you know? I would try to hate you every day, but then something would come through the bond. You would be scared, or stressed, or in pain, and I just wanted to _be with you_. I wanted to hold your hand, and take you out for milkshakes when you needed a break, and bring you into my bed to cuddle when you were scared. I wanted to be your friend, and get to know you before I fell in love you and decided to spend my life with you. But you were already destined for me and it scared me. Especially because Stiles always spouted off that dumb statistic about soulmate divorce rates and-” 

“God, that fucking divorce statistic,” Isaac groaned. “I want to punch him for telling me that.”

“He’s worried that he’ll end up part of the statistic,” Scott said. “I don’t think anyone thinks of their soulmate and wants to end up divorced. I was scared that we might not make it after everything that happened.”

He shifted closer to Isaac and reached out a hand.

“I’m glad you found me,” Scott said as Isaac took his hand.

Scott’s hand was warm, rough, and callused, but it was nice. It was a good hand. Granted, Isaac hadn’t held many hands in his lifetime. He’d held Erica’s, and Cora’s when she was too drunk to make it home by herself, and Hell, he’d even held Boyd’s hand under a circumstance that they both swore never to mention ever again. But those hands paled in comparison to Scott’s. There was this electricity that ran between them, almost like static electricity or unbridled excitement.

“Wow,” Scott breathed out, looking down at their joined hands. “I’ve never touched someone and felt so, I don’t know how to describe it. Safe? Like, nothing could ever come find me when I’m with you.”

Isaac’s eyebrows shot up.

“That’s what my bond feels like,” he answered.

“Are you serious?”

Isaac had done research, plenty of research on bonds and soul Marks, and what it’s like to meet your soulmate, but it had never mentioned _this._

“Stiles told me that your bond feels like excitement, or static electricity,” Isaac said. “Right?”

Scott nodded excitedly.

“Then,” Isaac paused. “Then, wow. If your bond feels like static electricity, and that’s what I feel when we touch, and my bond feels like comfort and safety, and that’s what you feel-”

He trailed off because wow.

They stayed silent, staring at their hands.

Isaac worked up the courage to speak a few minutes later, though. “During my darkest, hardest days at home, before Erica made me go to school and move away from my dad, it was you that got me through it. I didn’t have any friends at home. No one wanted to be the dreg’s friend-” Scott flinched at the slur- “so I didn’t have anyone, but every day, I had you on the other end of the bond. I could feel when you were happy, and it reminded me that someday, I would meet you, and know you, and maybe I could feel that happy, too. After that, I couldn’t imagine leaving you out there if I could help.”

“If I had known that my soulmate was so beautiful, I wouldn’t have been so negative about the bond,” Scott informed Isaac without embarrassment. Isaac blushed. “And I don’t just mean physically, although you are incredibly beautiful physically. I mean that you are a great person, from what I can tell and from what Stiles has said, and trust me, Stiles has managed to cram a lot of information in the last couple of days. He says that you’re kind, and funny, and witty, and you’re smart, and loyal, and I can’t imagine a person that I would rather spend my life with other than someone like you.”

* * *

 

**From: Scott**

**When are you coming back up here? I miss you.**

**To: Scott**

**I asked my manager for more days off so I can come see you until you’re on your feet. I’ll let you know which days I have off when I get my schedule later.**

**From: Scott**

**As soon as they’re sure my internal bleeding is taken care of, I’m being shipped back to Beacon Hills. Is that too far of a drive for you?**

**To: Scott**

**Nowhere is too far of a drive.**

**From: Scott**

**:3**

**To: Scott**

**;)**

**From: Scott**

**Stiles changed your name in my phone to Soulmate <3 in case you were wondering**

**To: Scott**

**I’m not even surprised. He changed his name in my phone to Batman before I left.**

**From: Scott**

**He’s always insisted that he’s not Robin but he’s the sidekick here, wouldn’t you agree?**

**From: Stiles**

**ARE YOU AND SCOTT TALKING ABOUT ME BECAUSE HE KEEPS LOOKING AT ME AND SMIRKING LIKE HE KNOWS SOMETHING I DON’T AND I DON’T LIKE IT ISAAC I DON’T LIKE IT ONE BIT**

**To: Scott**

**Your brother overreacts hard**

**From: Stiles**

**DON’T IGNORE ME ISAAC**

**From: Stiles**

**I WILL DRIVE UP THERE AND MURDER YOU I DON’T CARE HOW IMPORTANT YOU ARE TO SCOTT I KNOW HOW TO HIDE A BODY I’VE WATCHED DEXTER**

**From: Stiles**

**ISAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAC**

**From: Stiles**

**I’ll tell Erica**

**To: Stiles**

**Why would you do that? Don’t do that! We’re not talking about you!**

**From: Scott**

**I’m glad you and Stiles are friends. I don’t think I could be with someone, soulmate or not, if they didn’t treat Stiles right.**

**From: Erica**

**Are you being mean to Stiles?**

**To: Scott**

**Stiles tattled to Erica. He has to die.**

**From: Scott**

**Lol okay just don’t get caught I don’t want to have to visit you in prison**

**To: Scott**

**But think of all the hot conjugal visits we could have**

**From: Stiles**

**Ew I’m grossed out by whatever you just texted Scott**

**From: Stiles**

**Please don’t sext my brother when I’m in the room**

**To: Stiles**

**Then stop being in the room**

* * *

The first time Isaac kissed Scott, it was in Scott’s childhood bedroom while Star Wars played on Scott’s ancient laptop. It took three weeks after they met, two weeks after the hospital released Scott to an outpatient care center in Beacon Hills.

“Hey! Isaac! Scott’s in the dining room,” Melissa greeted when Isaac let himself into the McCall house that day, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. She was wearing her scrubs, blue bottoms with a Wonder Woman top. “There’s lasagna from Mrs. Robins in the fridge if you guys get hungry. Or you know, order pizza. I don’t care. Just clean up when you’re done. You know how it goes.”

She kissed Isaac on the cheek, shoved her feet into her shoes, and ducked under his arm with keys in hand. Isaac nabbed her ID badge from the side table and jogged back after her. She spun around by her car and sighed when she saw it in his hand.

“I don’t know what I did before you, Isaac.”

He smiled.

“My mom was really forgetful,” Isaac explained. “Cam and I got really good at anticipating what she had forgotten.”

Melissa laughed.

“You’re a good kid,” she said, taking the ID badge and clipping it to her scrubs. “I’ll be back sometime tonight, or sometime tomorrow. I don’t know. Tell Scott I love him.”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Bye, Isaac.”

Isaac headed back inside, listening as Melissa got in the car and started it up. He shut the front door behind him.

“Scott?”

“Dining room!”

He had paperwork spread around him on the round dining table, and an irritated look on his face. His nostrils were flared, his shoulders hunched, his eyebrows furrowed, and the corner of his lips were turned down.

“Hey, what’s that?” Isaac asked, sliding into the free seat next to him.

“Resignation bullshit,” Scott groaned. “I just want to retire without having to go through _this much paperwork_. I have to file for resigning my commission, and file for retiring, file for vet benefits, file for literally every single tax claim I could’ve made during the last three years. Do you know how boring reading this shit is? I wanted to just sign, but my CO scolded me and told me to read it carefully.”

He leaned into Isaac and huffed, dropping his head onto Isaac’s shoulder.

“Do you want to do something fun?” he asked, looking up at Isaac with wide, doe eyes, pleading him to say yes.

“Do _you_ want to do something fun?” Isaac replied.

“Please! I’ve been reading this shit for, what time is it?”

“Just about three.”

“Four hours, Isaac! I’ve been reading this legal jargon mumbo jumbo nonsense for four hours! Please, let’s do something fun.”

“Well, I do have a mission from Stiles,” Isaac replied.

“Is it watching Star Wars?”

“Yes.”

“Goddamn it! Fine! I’ll watch Star Wars! Star Wars must be better than this bullshit!” he said, sweeping his arm over the table, making some of the papers flutter slightly.

“Come on, let’s go,” Isaac said, helping Scott up and guiding him by the shoulders up the stairs and into his bedroom. “Where’s your laptop?”

Scott plopped into bed and kicked off his slippers, sliding up against the headboard.

“On my dresser.”

Isaac scooped it up and slid into bed beside Scott who lifted Isaac’s arm and slung it over his own shoulders so he could snuggle into Isaac’s side. Scott, Isaac had found out very quickly, was extremely tactile, enjoying touching Isaac, and being touched as often as possible. The second day that Isaac had driven up to see Scott, Scott had pat his hospital bed, and invited Isaac to lay with him until he had to leave.

“It helps, with the pain,” Scott had explained.

Isaac, down to one hand, opened the file Stiles had sent him of Star Wars Episode IV, loading it while Scott nuzzled into his shoulder.

“You smell really good today.”

Isaac laughed.

“I showered, but I didn’t put on any cologne or anything.”

Scott hummed.

“Alright, I’m under strict orders that there should be no, and I quote, canoodling, no-pants dancing, horizontal mamboing, or funny business of any sort while we are watching this movie because, and I quote again, it is a sacred rite of passage that you should’ve experienced already.”

Scott snorted.

“Jesus, hold on.”

Scott grabbed his phone from the bedside table and Isaac watched as he typed out a message to Stiles.

**To: Stiles**

**Isaac just informed me of your rules for watching Star Wars. I am 1) insulted and 2) horrified that you think that I would use Star Wars to seduce Isaac**

**From: Stiles**

**Star Wars is a powerful aphrodisiac**

**To: Stiles**

**Fuck off**

**From: Stiles**

**I want your 100% attention on the screen. No fondling or tickling or kissing. Nothing. Eyes on the screen. Nowhere else.**

**To: Stiles**

**I will do as I please!**

**From: Stiles**

**You are my brother and I love you, but I cannot be seen with you if you don’t follow these rules.**

“Harsh,” Isaac laughed. “Star Wars is really good, though, despite Stiles’, uhhh, eccentricities about it.”

“That’s the nicest someone has ever put Stiles’ fanboy obsession, honestly.”

“Do you want me to grab any snacks before we start?” Isaac asked.

“Don’t tell Stiles or my mom this, but there’s a bag of chips in my bedside table.”

Isaac grinned and got the bag out, plopping it on Scott’s lap before starting up the movie. The words “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away” came on the screen, but Isaac watched Scott out of the corner of his eye instead of the opening crawl that followed. When he used to watch Star Wars with Camden, Cam would read the opening crawl in a deep, dramatic voice that made Isaac giggle uncontrollably, almost missing the beginning sequence, not that Isaac hadn’t seen it a dozen times before.

Apparently, though, he wasn’t as subtle as he was hoping he was. Sometime around when Luke, Leia, Han, and Chewie get trapped in the trash compactor, Scott turned and stared right back at him.

“Your stealth could use some work,” Scott whispered.

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to be stealthy,” Isaac whispered back.

Scott smirked and leaned in closer to him, which Isaac didn’t realize was even possible, to whisper, “you were, but that’s okay. That means I can look at you whenever I want in return.”

Isaac looked down at the laptop resting mainly on his own lap, blushing.

“Isaac?” Scott said, his voice small and timid suddenly. Isaac looked back up, and found Scott worrying at his lip.

“Yeah?”

They were whispering still, as if afraid the world might hear them, even though they were in the safety of Scott’s bedroom in an empty house, the Sheriff and Melissa both at work, and Stiles finishing up his semester.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but,” he started, stopped to take a breath. “Can I kiss you?”

Isaac nodded quickly, probably too enthusiastically for anyone else, but Scott grinned.

The laptop was set aside and then, they were kissing, and it was like fucking magic. Whoever, or whatever created soulmates had gotten this whole thing one hundred percent correct, because that moment, Isaac swore, could’ve gone on for the rest of his life and he wouldn’t have regretted anything. He had kissed other people since moving into college, Erica once during spin the bottle and Cora during the same game of spin the bottle as well as a couple of boys at a gay bar that Erica had insisted they visit. He thought they were decent experiences, good kisses and all, but they were like candles compared to Scott’s bonfire. Scott outshone all of them without even trying.

Scott’s hand came up to cup the curve of Isaac’s jaw, the other resting on his shoulder. The kiss was easy, simple, almost chaste, but still wonderful. Isaac didn’t have to wonder or worry about anything; being near Scott just came naturally to him. It felt, beyond the normal sensations of their mouths moving together, like a swirling mixture of excitement and comfort, their bonds coming together and flowing between them openly. A surge of pure happiness came surfing in on the tide of the bond from Scott, and Isaac laughed, breaking the kiss.

“What?” Scott asked, grinning as Isaac dropped his head onto Scott’s collarbone.

“You’re happy.”

“Of course, I am.”

“No, it’s just- I can feel how happy you are.”

Scott wrapped his arms around Isaac and they clung to each other comfortably. They weren’t scared of losing each other, they didn’t have to be. Beacon Hills, while it had its problems, was almost a safe haven for Marked and queer people. There hadn’t been a single hate crime reported, according to Sheriff Stilinski, since before he had joined as a deputy “many, many years ago.” Erica, Boyd, and Isaac together had gotten all of Isaac’s stuff out of his father’s house and moved it into his campus apartment, so he never had to return to the dark, hateful community he had been raised in. Well, except for twice a year to celebrate the two sunshine spots in the darkness of his childhood. The point was that they were safe. There was no one who was going to take them away from one another, or hurt either of them.

“I want to try something,” Scott said, sitting back. He moved far enough away and wriggled out of his t-shirt, tossing it away towards the end of the bed. There were still stitches and bandages along his torso from his surgery, and he had to be careful not to overexert himself until he was completely healed, but he was getting there. Isaac watched while Scott peeled away the bandage on his collar. Underneath, Isaac expected the Mark to be burned away, but it was as black and strong as ever.

“How? I thought-”

“Marks aren’t like tattoos, that’s what the doctor told me at least. He said that there’s not a force on Earth that anyone has tried that can get rid of a soul Mark. When they, when they tried to burn it off, and they saw that it wasn’t gone, they left me alone for a few days, no food, no water, no human contact, no rest. I was just left hanging there, waiting for them to come back. I thought they’d be angry that they had failed, but it just, it hadn’t worked so they had to regroup.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No, strangely. It was one of the first things to heal even though the doctors that first looked at me after they got me out classified it as a third degree burn. It was almost healed when we met.”

Isaac paused, letting himself look at Scott, bare chested before him. He had a tattoo around his upper bicep, two thick unbroken parallel black bands wrapped around his arm, which Isaac had seen playing peek-a-boo under the arm of his t-shirts. He was muscular, but Isaac had expected that because he was in the army. Even Camden had left kind of shrimpy, lean and a powerful swimmer but still on the shrimpy side, and came back bulked up.

“So what’s your plan here?” Isaac asked, dragging his eyes back to Scott’s.

“If you’re comfortable with it, this is the part where you also take off your shirt.”

Isaac nodded, and tugged his shirt up over his head, tossing it… somewhere. Scott looked delighted.

“What now?” Isaac asked as Scott reached out and touched his chest.

“I, uhhh, I had a plan. I did.”

Isaac had a hunch, though. Scott had mentioned the first day they had met that he read a lot of those cheesy soulmate romance novels that you could find cheap in literally every store ever, the ones with the half-naked men and the women bearing their “soul Mark” towards their partner on the cover. A common precursor to sex in those novels tended to be grazing their soulmate’s Mark, which was supposedly a wholly erotic action.

He reached out and, very carefully, traced the outline of Scott’s Mark. He knew it by heart, having grown up tracing the bird-like shape on his own collar, but this was different. It tingled in his fingertips like he was touching a livewire. Scott’s eyes fluttered shut and he gripped Isaac’s wrist as he went to make a second loop.

“That,” he breathed out, “was better than I anticipated.”

Isaac shuffled forward and then pulled Scott into his lap.

“They always depict it as this fucking instant turn-on zone, but I never imagined it would feel that, I don’t even know how to explain it. It just feels good.”

He hovered his fingers over Isaac’s Mark and nodded to it as if you ask permission. Isaac nodded, and Scott’s fingertips delicately brushed down the length of the Mark. A shiver of just pure pleasure, but not strictly sexual pleasure, ran through Isaac. It felt like, like- he had no words. Like, maybe that adrenaline-high you get at the top of a roller coaster right before it plunges, or the swell of pride you get when you see someone you love accomplish something great. Like, the sight of all the candles lit on his birthday cake for the first time since Camden died, Erica and Boyd and Matt and Cora grinning at him from the other side of the kitchen counter, telling him to make a wish. Like, watching the Sheriff and Melissa act like a couple of teenagers even though they both have children that are grown adults. Like, all the familiar feelings of being around those that you loved were rolled into one stroke of fingers along a special patch of skin.

Isaac caught Scott’s hand and laced their fingers together, trying to hide the fact that his breathing was off just a hair.

“I want you to meet Erica.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot up.

“That’s not what I expected.”

“My mom and my brother are dead, and I’m dead to my father, so Erica is the only family I really have. She brought me out of the gutter and put me on the right track, and she’s been my best friend for three years and she hasn’t let me down ever. She’s there when I need her, and she gives me the best advice. She doesn’t let me get away with shit. She mothers me all of the time, but she’s also like my sister, and my cool aunt, and she’s just all the family I have, but she’s also the only family I’ve needed, until I met you. And I’ve met Stiles, and your mom, and the Sheriff. I’ve met _your_ family, so I think when you feel up to it, maybe you could meet my family.”

Scott kissed him.

“Of course, I’ll meet your family.”

**To: Erica**

**Are you staying for winter semester?**

**From: Erica**

**Lol like you need to ask**

**To: Erica**

**I want you to meet Scott**

**From: Erica**

**Are you sure?**

**To: Erica**

**I’ve never been more sure in my life**

“I have an idea,” Scott whispered sometime later after they had rewound Star Wars to where their kiss had started. He didn’t elaborate, instead simply moving everything around on the bed, including Isaac. Finally satisfied, he laid down with Isaac and kissed him, a scene that they’d seen already playing on the laptop that had been discarded close by. Isaac chuckled into the kiss when he saw Scott raise his cell phone to take a selfie of them making out while ignoring Star Wars, their shirts still _somewhere_ in the room. Scott broke the kiss after taking the picture, although placating Isaac with a few short kisses, and typed out a message to Stiles with the picture attached.

**To: Stiles**

**Woops, broke rule #1**

**From: Stiles**

**You’re both dead to me**

**From: Stiles**

**You’re stupidly cute together though**

**From: Stiles**

**I’m still disowning the both of you for mistreating SW like this**

“Hey, would you be cool with me uploading this to Instagram or something?” Scott asked. “It’s totally cool if it’s not, but like, I want to show you off to everyone I know because you’re, you know, you’re mine.”

Isaac nuzzled the underside of Scott’s jaw.

“It’s fine. There’s no one that I don’t want seeing it anymore.”

Scott pulled back.

“You mean that?”

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere near my father ever, or my hometown, and they’re the main reason I hid it from everyone in the first place, but I’m away from them and have a wonderful support system. I have no reason to hide now.”

Scott kissed the tip of Isaac’s nose, then went about whatever he was doing on his phone. An incoming notification on Isaac’s phone alerted him that Scott had finished uploading the picture. He had captioned it with a quote, “I was yours before I knew, and you have always been mine too.”

Erica had already commented on it, because she was probably bored in class.

**Erica Reyes**

**Congratulations you two are officially cuter than BoydandErica**

* * *

 

Isaac swung his and Scott’s conjoined hands excitedly. He had spent so much time in Beacon Hills recently that he hadn’t had a lot of quality time with Erica. He was happy that he got to see her and Scott simultaneously, as well as that they were finally going to meet. He had even spent Christmas and New Years with the Stilinski-McCall family, instead of hanging out alone in his apartment while Erica and Boyd went home to either the Reyes or Boyd households.

Now, though, it was the first weekend after New Years and Erica had returned to campus to start the winter session where she was taking some courses in order to graduate early and get a head start on her graduate degree.

“Come on, pokey,” Isaac joked, tugging on Scott’s hand as they climbed the flight of steps up to Erica and Boyd’s second-floor apartment. He let himself in, not bothering to knock. “Hey! Erica?”

“Finally, Lahey!”

She bounced out of the kitchen, her blond hair pulled up in a messy bun, and she was wearing her study sweatpants which meant her classes more than likely skipped right over “syllabus week.”

“Boyd is out foraging for food, but he’ll be back soon,” she informed them before turning to Scott, who looked more than a little intimidated. “Hi! I’m Erica, Isaac’s best friend, protector, and all around support system. You must be Scott! If not, then I’ve been horribly deceived.”

Scott looked extraordinarily stunned, which was a common response to the Erica Full Speed Ahead Train.

“Erica, chill, you’re scaring the seasoned war veteran.”

“I’ll remember to put that on my resume,” she said.

“I’m Scott,” he finally said, finding his voice. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She grinned like a cat who had just caught its prey.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Come this way. We have _so much_ to talk about.”

She guided Scott away from Isaac and into the kitchen.

**To: Stiles**

**I might have made a mistake introducing Scott and Erica**

**From: Stiles**

**Scott grew up with me and he’s a veteran of war. He can handle Erica Reyes.**

**To: Stiles**

**Erica is telling him about one of my freshman year drunken gay bar hookups.**

**From: Stiles**

**Run**

**From: Stiles**

**Run far away**

**From: Stiles**

**I have connections, I can get you out of the country. I think I can get you to France.**

Isaac stepped into the kitchen and found Scott and Erica crowded around her laptop.

“Whatcha looking at?” he asked cautiously.

“Freshman Isaac,” Scott said with a grin. “And also high school emo Isaac.”

“Erica, you promised me.”

“I promised you nothing,” she answered. “All I said was that I would behave and not tell him any embarrassing stories.”

“High school emo Isaac is an embarrassing story.”

“Embarrassment is in the eye of the beholder,” she said in reply. He narrowed his eyes at her and she simply grinned happily.

“I think you were adorable at all stages,” Scott said, looping his arm around Isaac’s waist and dragging him in close. He kissed Isaac’s cheek and stood on his toes to whisper, “I’ll show you skater punk Scott and Stiles when we get home.”

 _Home_.

They practically lived together, for now, but Isaac would have to come back to school come the beginning of February and then he’d rarely see Scott. It was already iffy as it was, with Scott’s therapy, both psychiatric and physical, appointments, but add Isaac going to school over an hour away from Beacon Hills and Scott going to start looking for some sort of job…

But, he remembered something his mom used to say when Isaac or Camden tried to load too much of the future on their shoulders and bear that weight around.

“The only thing that you are responsible for, and the only thing you should worry about, is right now. Enjoy this moment, this one that you’re living. Let the future wait. It’ll come sooner than you think, so you should be right here and enjoy this. This is what matters,” she would say, tweaking their nose and then smoothing down their hair.

“This is what matters,” he repeated quietly to himself, holding Scott against his side.

“What’s that?” Scott asked, looking up from the video Boyd had taken of Erica and Isaac slow-dancing to Get Low around the living room of a frat house.

Isaac looked into those beautiful, chocolate brown eyes, and finally understood. He had tried to believe it throughout the years, tried to believe his mother’s own philosophy on life, but how could he enjoy his life when it was dark tight spaces inside a locked freezer and ducking out of the way of a flying glass? But this moment, with Scott and Erica, the two people in his life that mattered the most-

“This,” he said more succinctly, “this right here, this is what matters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we finally made it, guys! I mean, it's here, the end! Well, the end of the story focused on Scott and Isaac. Remember there is a "sequel" that I'm writing, a short one-shot thing about Stiles meeting Derek, so make sure you subscribe to the series to be told when that comes out!   
> Thank you so much to anyone who has left kudos, commented, bookmarked, subscribed, shared, whatever. I am truly grateful you guys liked this so much! I adore soulmate aus so I was gonna write it with or without your support, but it means a lot to me that you liked it so much! Really!
> 
> And as we've reached the end, this is the part where I stop talking.  
> So, until next time,  
> DFTBA  
> -K


End file.
